


Panic Cord

by Miutinichisheno



Category: Dark Avengers (Comic), Dark Wolverine (Comics)
Genre: And Gabrielle Aplin songs, Eliza Rickman songs too, Fluff, I blame Manicr, M/M, PWP, Well crap this started as a PWP, but mostly Manicr, hinting of things that happened with Romulus, not so pwp, vague smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-22 23:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 38,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3747190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miutinichisheno/pseuds/Miutinichisheno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow up inspired by Manicr's OTP challenge chapter In A Public Place. Lester comes to realise that Daken's emotional manipulation has gone a step further than either intended for it to go. Hoping he could use it as another control over Lester, things don't go as planned and Daken finds himself having the tables turned on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Please Don't Say You Love Me (Cause I might not say it back)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [manicr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manicr/gifts).
  * Inspired by [OTP Challenge: Daken/Bullseye](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1757009) by [manicr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manicr/pseuds/manicr). 



“You can try and pretend all you want Princess.” Lester hammered at the door. It'd been like this for nearly ten minutes already. Daken had seen him coming and decided against grocery shopping and went back inside. Whilst he enjoyed tackling issues head on, he wasn't in the mood for this. “I know you're in there and I'm not leaving till you let me in.”

“If I let you in you'll immediately leave? That's so considerate of you, after all I hadn't planned for this visit.”

“Cute. Real cute.”

The hammering started again and Daken jolted away from the door, his nose wrinkling and hissing in it's general direction. What he'd thought would be a soul crushing revelation turned into one of the single-handedly biggest backfires since teaming up with his father. All the years he'd spent working and moulding Lester into the perfect little submissive pet, wasted. It wasn't even as though he'd taken up the behavioural traits of a stalker, he could deal with that because it wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary. Instead, there was no fury in his voice, no demands of what have you done to me? _Just get furious. Break the door down, break me, scream and shout. Do what you should._

“We know that's why you're here but the feeling isn't mutual. I believe we've long since established this, dear. This was a mutually beneficial sex thing. It can't be anything more and it won't be.” He didn't open the door, instead leaning against it and speaking very calmly. Stay level. Don't waver. Controlled. You are in control of this situation, not that maniac.

“Like I know what's going on in that head of yours.” Lester stopped hammering at the door. Alright, Daken was gonna be a stubborn little bitch. Fine, he could play the long game. He was a sniper, he could be patient. This was nothing. He knew Daken, he was fickle and proud. He'd get tired and eventually open up. Not that they'd really talk about it like functioning adults, but he could make some exceptions. He was lucid, staved off any distractions or messing with his medication. If he was going to beat Daken at this game he'd have to be on full point, not some foggy mess that he was used to. He also had the advantage of knowing Daken's trump card. Pheromones. Of course. He'd always been too vague to be a psychic, everything was based on observation. “You're running scared.”  
If Daken'd try provoking him then he'd jab right back. Just like the old times.

“I am not running scared, I am establishing boundaries. Remember those?” Daken elbowed the door back at the very notion. He was insulted. No, this was what he wanted. Lester had the advantage because he caught him off guard, that was all there was to it. Nothing more. He began using a potent brew of anger, fear and the good old flight notion in his pheromones, get him to leave. He didn't have time for this. He didn't want to deal with this. “But of course, when you're not getting what you want you storm over to my humble abode and demand that I fix it. This isn't my responsibility.”  
“I thought that was exactly what you said it was.” Lester's brows raised, lighting up. “You wanted me to be your pet, for me to adore you. Here I am, bitch. Or is this not how you wanted it to be? What, you expect me to be some grovelling mess at your feet?”  
“You're obsessive. Calling it love is a stretch of the imagination.”  
“Love and obsession come from the same tree.”  
“Except one is usually mutual.”  
“I know this one's mutual.”  
“No, that's you being hopeful.” How was he being so calm? The cocktail of emotions he was emitting should have been doing something to him. Wait did he smell smoke? Asshole was camping on his front porch with a cigarette. Either he was hoping the nicotine would calm him down or the scent of the smoke was drowning out his pheromones. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so eager to reveal his trump card.  
“That's why you've run away to your safehouse and shut yourself away from everything. You're fucking hiding!”  
“It's called avoidance. You disgust me. I don't want to look at you.”  
“Now you're just getting personal. Someone getting desperate?”  
“I'm getting pissed off at you.”  
“So the ice-queen is capable of emoting.”  
Again Daken elbowed the door again, growling. This was pathetic. He was pathetic. Lester was pathetic. Everything was pathetic, especially as he was slumped against the door. When had that happened?

“I'm walking away Lester.” It was the first time he'd said his name, there wasn't any hatred in it, just tiredness. The worst thing was he knew that when he went to leave he'd still be sat out there like some disgustingly obedient dog. Wasn't that exactly what he wanted? Tear the man apart emotionally and watch him suffer. Like a child pulling the wings and legs off an insect to see it squirm. His stomach felt cold. He didn't feel _bad_ about this. Because if he felt bad about it it'd mean he felt guilty and if he felt guilty then he was invested. Investing was dangerous and the beginning of weakness. They worked because they simultaneously weren't attached to each other. They had a routine, a system and now that'd been thrown to the wind because Lester decided that he wanted more. Greedy, selfish little man.

 

'You're going to have to leave sometime.' If it were any other time then Daken might have read the text as threatening. Perhaps it was in some way, because he pushed the phone aside and ignored it as it continued to buzz. He carried on as normal. He even managed to have a shower. It was hotter than it should have been because he could feel his scalp tightening. Distractions, anything. Even mocking daytime TV wasn't scratching the itch. He was uncomfortable. Unsettled.  
'Go away.'  
'If you really didn't care you wouldn't be getting so worked up, Princess'  
'You're trespassing.'  
'No you're just uptight.'

Daken felt the corner of his eye twitch, he pulled back the blinds and saw Lester still sat there, looking at his phone. The porch had now acquired a small pile of cigarette butts, all neatly organised into one place. His jaw tightened and sent another message.  
'I'll call the avengers. Drop an annoymous tip the dangerous Bullseye is in my neighbourhood.' He banged on the window as he sent it. Lester just gave him a casual little wave. This felt like the asshole equivalent of some douchebag with a boombox in the 80's.  
'No you won't because then you'd have to deal with them too.'

“What the hell do you want?” Daken growled, opening the door behind Lester. “I get the picture. You think you're infatuated with me so you're seeking compensation is that it? You've been used. There's nothing for you here. Move on with your life, go chase down Murdock.”  
“Why would I do that when I can come over here and give you grey hairs.” Lester got to his feet slowly, dusting off his jeans. Everything was drawn out.  
“As.. thrilling as it is to watch you resemble a sloth, you may have hours to piss away but I don't.”  
“But that's part of it,” Lester rubbed his head, feeling the stubble threatening to come back. The passage of time ever evident on his features on a nearly daily basis now. He was pushing fifty, Daken had to have been older, yet he never looked it.“You've got all the time in the world, I don't.”

Daken's mouth pressed into a firm line, gripping at the door. _Slam the door, this has gone on too long. You've entertained him for long enough. Finish this._  
“That's what it is isn't it? The great and proud Daken is scared.” There should have been something cruel in his voice, and maybe there was, but all Daken was registering was his words burning. Or was that his face? “You've got a great poker face until someone pokes at something a bit too fucking real for you. Not so fun when someone else is doing it to you, is it?”

He leant on the door frame, still not entering the house, arms folded and watching Daken's face twist. Turning the tables felt good, who knew that all he had to do was to be like an obnoxious teenager with his feelings. Daken had to have been able to smell it on him for years, the fact he didn't recognise it spoke a thousand words. He didn't know much about Daken's past, just odds and ends that got vaguely mentioned, it was all very controlled. But that was what he was, controlled to the point of repression. He had to have been a bad influence on that after all these years, encouraged him to throw off the chains and let loose once in a while.

“So you're just here to try and make me pay for this? I can influence but I can't make you do anything unless you want to. This is all on you.” Daken bit, thumb nail scraping at the wood.  
“Takes two to tango bitch.” Testing the water he reached for the mutant's face. He excepted him to nip at his hand and jerk away, instead he looked away exposing his neck to him. Lester opted to cup his hand on his neck. Any other time he'd be overcome with the need to crush his windpipe, watch as he struggled to breathe. Those eyes of his get glossy and then hollow. The transition was always beautiful. “What is it? Why you giving me the cold shoulder. Normally you can't get enough of my attention, always getting off on it.”  


He always clammed up when things got too personal. This wasn't the first time. He'd asked him about the scars on his wrists all those years back, worried at the wounds but he never once said a thing. He shut down. Was it his defence mechanism? If he couldn't make himself enjoy it he shut it out. There was no warping and twisting this one. Not yet anyway. Strike whilst the iron was hot and make sure to see him squirm.  
“You letting me in?” Lester finally asked, running his thumb along Daken's jugular. He could feel his pulse pounding. If he pushed it far enough would he see his heart explode? Would that be evidence enough that he did indeed possess one, stony and shrivelled as it may be?

Daken didn't say anything, instead he leant against the door, removing himself from being in the way. Affection wasn't what everyone preached it to be. It was cruel. It was ugly and twisted. Family, bonds all that, it was weakness. And yet he'd spent years under Romulus' thumb believing it to be what a connection was really like, told himself over and over that all those Logan surrounded with in his life just wanted something from him. It wasn't real.  
And here he was, faced with some terrible force hammering at his door, making him waste a day. Lester hadn't necessarily aged gracefully over the years, but he could have looked a whole lot worse. The ridges and bumps in his face from scars accumulated. He took pride in them. Daken's jaw tightened, slamming the door behind the intruder. He was now on sacred grounds. His safe house was modestly decorated, the odd painting here and there, some semblance of evidence that he actually lived here. No one but Daken was allowed here so it housed some things Lester assumed might have been private. Nothing seemed to strike him as being much of a give away to that though. Was he doing more of that symbolic thing he so loved doing? Letting him into the house equating to letting him into his life or some bullshit?

“I'll take that as a yes.” He muttered. “Still can't decorate for shit.”  
“Just get it over with. What are your terms.”  
“I thought we were supposed to be moving past the mutual beneficial sex stage. This isn't a contract.”  
“What do you want.” _Of course it is, it's forged in blood and compromises. I'm selling my soul once again. You should have learned your lesson. You're an idiot, a pathetic useless idiot who can't go without someone holding your leash._  
“You, dumbass.”  
“Liar.”  
“You can tell I'm not. Can't you smell that sort of thing? The nose knows and that shit you come out with?”  
He shifted again. Lester's brows rose. So, right up there with being a manipulative prissy princess, he was also an emotionally immature and stunted, manipulative prissy princess.  
“Have you ever been honest about anything in your life?”  
“You need to go.”  
“Daken-”  
“I can't. Whatever this- whatever you want it to be, I can't and I won't.” He was staring at a patch on the floor, not looking at Lester. Barely able to voice his train of thought coherently. His shoulders were squared and he had a blank look in his eyes. Again Lester was reminded of the time he came back to the Tower with those scars on his wrists. So this was how he reacted when he wasn't in control?  
“You let me in your safe house. It's not like I'm telling you to lay every single one of your cards on the table. I'm not telling you to gush at me all night, I might end up stabbing myself in the ears if you did.” _Those things come with time,_ but if he was reacting like this at the prospect it was probably best left unsaid.  
The mutant clenched his fist, bringing it to his face and nipping at the tip of his long thumb nail. His jaw shifted as he didn't quite bite down, just rake his teeth over it. Letting people in, no wonder he kept his distance if it reduced him to this. All the Dark Avengers had been fucked up in some way, they all had their coping mechanisms but when you were messed up you recognised it in other people. The little tell tale signs, the brief moments of anxiety, the flashbacks, the triggers. Someone had gotten close, chewed him up and spat him out several times over. Enough to put him off letting anyone close. To think someone held that much power over him at one time.. hell even now. This was the result. What Daken was right now, the wreck he was, was someone's work of art. Their project. It was no secret that people were grabby with Wolverine's DNA and abilities. Had Daken been subjected to it? No otherwise he would have been on more people's radar. He somehow managed to avoid it, but still had something else. Quick systematic breakdown. Enjoying what others would call torture, sex was a weapon it held no other purpose than manipulation and dopamine, displaying anxiety at the idea of closeness. Someone definitely made him their little plaything. You mimic what you're taught. He knew that, all things considered with his own fucked up old man. Problem was Logan didn't fit that picture in his head.

“Look, I get it.” Lester barked, snapping Daken to attention. He forced the mutant to look at him, his eyes narrowed as he searched Daken's features. He looked like a deer in car headlights. “You're damaged fucking goods and you've got a mountain of baggage. Great. Welcome to the fucking club you, dumbass.”  
Daken looked to be searching his expression equally. There were a million things crossing his mind, conditioning and learned habits screaming at him to stab Lester in the gut and tear him to ribbons, to submit and accept this was the way things were now, to run and never look back. And yet he did none of these things. He needed something he could control. Assert himself, prove he wasn't just going to be his toy. Lester was his pet. Perhaps if he was good he might promote him. He was his play thing and he was going to remind him of the status-quo.

Lester saw his expression twist as Daken's hands shot forward. His arms looped around the back of his neck and dragged him back against the wall. He was all teeth and desperation as he collided their mouths together. He knew how to do this, he could navigate this with ease and well practised skill. It wasn't that Lester was falling for it, even as he hungrily kissed him back, he'd seen Daken's bitch in heat to dodge responsibility act before and fallen for it; this time he was going to make a point. He'd try and coerce Lester into hurting him, bring out the violence within him, use it as an excuse. He wouldn't give him an inch this time around.

He pushed their groins together, jutting against him, already half hard just from initiating the act. How well practised was he at this?How many times had he had to use his body as a distraction, something to calm someone else down? How freely did he offer himself up like this? Lester growled under his breath and bit at Daken's lower lip, lifting his leg. He thrust forward, grinding against him, watching his expression. Normally Daken was responsive and communicative, it seemed as though he'd taken a back seat on this encounter, letting Lester do with him as he pleased. He was still receptive, huffing and grinding down on him, but there was still distance between them.  
He wasn't here to fuck a blow up doll.

 

Another growl and Lester lifted his other leg, hoisting him up and carrying him through the house. Daken kept trying to distract, biting and clawing at his back. Bedroom. There had to be a fucking bedroom in this pretentious place. He kicked doors open, giving the rooms a once over, ignoring the nuisance latched to his front. He'd give princess exactly what he wanted alright. But he'd do it _his_ way.  
Finally he found it. It wasn't built for the bed that was in there, but it looked like you could lose small things amongst the duvet, be it keys, pets, small children.. Lester gave a grunt of effort as he half swung them down, oh so there was some resistance from the mattress. His mind made a smart comment about princess and the pea, but figured he'd leave it for later when Daken wasn't being so damn weird.  
It became a race to see who could get their clothes off quicker. Daken seemed to have the upper hand from pure practice, besides, something about open dress shirts looked better than straight up ripping your t-shirt off. He was laid there, hair splayed out contrasting sharply against the crisp white sheets, lilac dress shirt and tight black boxers. He looked like something off the cover of a magazine. But everything about him was calculated, again, time to break a habit.  
Instead of leaving him there, Lester stripped him of his shirt and mercilessly yanked his boxers from him. His eyes narrowed as he examined his work, the clothes getting bundled and tossed to a vague corner of the room. Daken of course managed to roll with it. He was playing the role of the good little obedient whore. There to be explicitly used, objectified, to not be thought of as having feelings or a purpose other than pleasing another. He wasn't an object, he was going to be his subject. If what he saw before him was the art work he'd been made into, then he'd make him into his own. Build him back up, get him engaged. This wasn't just some scripted encounter he could blag his way through.

Leaning down, Daken expected Lester to connect their lips once more, deliberately he'd do something he wasn't counting on. Instead of a kiss on the mouth he kissed his neck, hands soothing up his side. When Daken reached to slip him out of the confines of his boxers he caught his hand and squeezed, nibbling his knuckles. When he tried to hook his leg around his waist, Lester would take a hold of his leg, lean back and trail more kisses from his ankle right down to his inner thigh. He could feel his leg twitching, the muscles tensing and spasming – not that he wasn't flexible, he'd seen him do flexible. Perhaps it was down to the simple fact things weren't going the way he thought they would.  
His tongue flicked over the join of his leg to his crotch and he heard Daken whimper. He writhed, trying to prop himself up on his elbows to see just what Lester was doing. Expecting him to suck him off he rolled his hips, begging for contact. So, instead Lester kissed, sucked and licked everything but. He wanted to see him out of breath, over worked and nerves too sensitive. This wouldn't be just a simple fuck and get out like they used to do. Not that their sessions didn't turn into spooning until morning, but neither of them would acknowledge that. He'd make Daken feel it and remember every last sensation.  
Lester dragged his tongue further back, dusting just over his balls and he felt Daken's legs jolt as they laid over his shoulders. Resting somewhere between his balls and ass, he swirled his tongue and felt the pressure on his shoulders increase. Daken knew exactly where he wanted him to be.  
“Now I finally have your fucking attention.” Lester growled, leaning up and away from the task at hand.  
“Ngh- Stop talking about the prospect of us being in a relationship, you're going to make me flaccid.”  
“Then deal with it princess.”  
Daken groaned and moved his legs, despite his protests he was still noticeably hard.  
“You're serious aren't you? You weren't just dropped on your head repeated times.” He didn't even bother to cross his legs, or cover up. Just crossed his legs and folded his arms, somewhat hunched over.  
“What you think suddenly we're gonna start going to movies together, have date nights and be like everyone else?”  
“I was concerned that was what you were going for. We're not like everyone else. We won't be like that and we can't.”  
“Do you think that being into someone makes you see unicorns that shit rainbows? Cause if you start to then I will give you concrete shoes.”  
“No, I don't. Now are you going to actually fuck me or are you here for the single purpose of winding me up?”  
“You always manage both.”  
“Asshole.”  
“Prissy bitch.”

Daken rode. He was latched tight, resting their foreheads together, breathing the same air. There was no blood spilt, no beatings to test his healing factor, the only bruises left were from holding on so tight. The sheets were soaked with sweat, lube and semen. Lester avoided jack hammering, he didn't want to burn himself out too quickly, knowing how insatiable Daken got during the spring time, let alone normally. It was paced, firm but they wanted to take their time. Daken could have sworn that he was getting light headed or going into hyperventilation, his lungs burned, his toes tingled. He'd lost count of how many times he thought he'd cum, now fixated in a state of hypersensitivity. That blend of pained pleasure.  
Lester reached between them, thumbing the tip of his erection, smearing the leaking substance on the crown. His motions were becoming more languid and slow, not to mention how they'd ended up shuffling back to the headboard so he could lean against it. This'd be the last round, Daken noted shifting so he was propped on his knees. He raised his hips and thrust down to sync with Lester and his partner groaned, rolling his head back. He rocked, making sure to just keep skirting the line of pleasure and orgasm, still not ready to give it up. He was pushed over the edge by Lester plunging rougher into him, one final burst of energy. He clawed at the other's back frantically, trying to get more in him, his muscles spasming.  
“One of these days you're gonna hear a snap and neither of us are gonna be happy.” Lester sighed, shoulders sagging.  
“Then I'll just have to be the one to take control for a while. Or you could use your mouth. Teach you how to do it like a pro.”  
“Last of the true romantics.”  
“Coming from the man who sat on my front porch until I let you in.”  
"You did this. It's all on you."  
"Yeah, yeah." He'd get him back. He just needed some time to consider how and what would hit the best. But now he'd have to put a more personal twist on it. It'd be beautiful.  
"You've got a nice place."  
"If you even think of moving in I'll snap your dick off."  
"You'd miss it too much."

 


	2. Whatever You Do, Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was it always so unbearable to sleep next to someone?

Normally, sleeping in a bed with another person wasn't a problem for Daken. Despite promises and laughing off conversations of moving in, somehow it had happened. Or it may as well have done. More often than not Lester was in his bed next to him. He put it down to the cocktail of medication the man took, but he was always swelteringly hot. His ankles were tangled up in the covers and the sheets felt like they were sticking to him. At least the asshole wasn't trying to hold onto him. It was worse first thing in the morning, at first he used to be disorientated and wonder where he was because there was a new scent mingling with his familiarity. Then it was the casual breakfasts. Everything would stay the same they said. It hadn't. It was progressing and it was completely out of his hands. How was Lester so calm about it? Or was he better at being accepting than Daken ever was? They were supposed to be invincible together, now here they were attempting to function like everyone else. They weren't everyone else and they never could be, so why kid themselves? 

This was the problem of not sleeping, Daken had found over the years; the mind has a tendency of running away with you. It creates problems that you might not have even realised existed or were problems in the first place. Maybe Lester's poker face was just better than his. Or perhaps this was revenge for all those years when they were working with Norman, easy to toy with he may have been, but he was self-aware. He knew what was going on, even if he didn't know how. This was all artificial. How could he have not seen it? Why would he cling to something fake, was he really that desperate and pathetic?   
Daken must have been shifting around too much. He groaned as Lester's arm looped over his waist. This would crumble and burn, unable to hold itself up on such shaky roots, why put more pressure on it? Did he want freedom? Push it so far that everything was proven to be made of sand. He'd give Lester his freedom if that was really what he wanted, none of this was worth the sleepless nights it was giving him.

  
Or maybe he was just looking for an excuse to leave. Stability and depending on others wasn't something that he'd been encouraged to do growing up. He was taught to be independent but totally dependent on Romulus in a sick way. Everything he did hinged upon that monster. He wouldn't be trapped like that again. No one was worth looking at through rose coloured lenses. No one was ever all they were cracked up to be. Everyone was flawed and disgusting.  
  
“If you're too hot then open the damn window, princess.”  
“You're too hot and you keep chasing me around the bed.”  
“I can't help what I do in my sleep. If it bothers you so much then sleep somewhere else.”  
“This is my place. _You_ sleep on the sofa.” Daken growled, twisting out of Lester's weakened grip.  
The other grunted, he took the pillow with him and padded out of the room. Every footstep he could hear the floorboards creak, able to tell almost exactly where he was headed. He was going to use that blanket he draped over the sofa. It wasn't a blanket you used it was decorative. And he'd sweat over it. Daken growled under his breath once more, turning over and trying to adjust to the sudden space he had. It was still warm where Lester had been, and as overbearing as he'd been he didn't actually move from the warmth. The goosebumps that had run up his arm had faded and he didn't feel quite so on edge. Taking comfort in things from a distance perhaps? He reached down and pulled the cover up over himself, huddling into a ball for warmth.

  
Too cold? This was ridiculous. As much as he could regulate his own body temperature to some degree, it didn't feel the same. He'd be aware that it was cold but he wouldn't feel it. But that would mean expending more energy, which when he was supposed to be sleeping felt counter-productive.  
And just what if he was being genuine? He wrenched his eyes shut. What did it even matter? Lester was a plaything that would come and go. Already he was able to trace the beginning lines of crows feet around his eyes. Stress lines growing deeper on his forehead. Nothing lasts forever. Why not be an opportunist? Take all that's offered. But at what price to him? Compromise his untouchable nature. _You're not untouchable, you're a scared petulant child. You're scared of connection. You're scared after all Romulus did to you and applying the same logic to everyone else. Letting your emotions rule you. You were taught better than that.  
_ Daken pulled the covers over his head. How did he manage to sleep just about anywhere before?

Lester's eyes opened as he was shaken awake, it was still dark outside. He couldn't see Daken's expression but he was silent. Normally he couldn't get him to shut up when he was being his usual obnoxious self. The inner machinations of Daken was unknown sometimes, but there were these moments where he would wear his emotions on his sleeve. This was one of those moments. Shame he'd timed it when the lights were off because he wanted to see that face and store it for later. The glimpses Lester got of Daken's true nature were far and few between, but important. The longer he knew him the more contradictory he became. He knew he coaxed out that berserker nature he'd inherited from his father and something else. There was an element of loyalty in there somewhere, it was just a matter of if it'd spook him. In the end it all came down to power. The work of art he'd been previously beaten into before was cracking and something else was waiting to come forth. Perhaps that was why he stuck around with the petty little Queen. His evolution was constant. Curiosity?  
Daken nudged him once more, grabbing his wrist and gave a tug. He let Daken lead him back to the bed, pillow under his free arm. They settled once more, and part of him hoped to some deity that this wouldn't be a nightly occurrence, there was only so much he could put up with his bipolar mood swings, especially as it was getting in the way of his sleep. The meds may have made it come easier these days, but there was only so many times someone could get woken up in the night before they give up on sleep altogether.  
  
Lester hadn't been under the covers for a moment before he found Daken leaning on his arm, tucking himself closer. He was faced with two choices, make a comment about how fickle the little shit-bag was, or just accept it and get some sleep. Well, there was nothing to say he couldn't jibe him about it in the morning.  
“You missed me.”  
“I will kick you out that door so help me.”  
It was too easy.

 


	3. Devil's Flesh & Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the Eliza Rickman song of the same name.

There's something infuriating about watching an obsession from the perspective of an outsider.   
  
He hears something come on the television about Hells Kitchen's one and only DareDevil and Lester may as well be a bitch panting in heat. He can smell the shift in his hormones. How he seems to lose all sense of himself. Daken feels his lips curl inwards, raking over his teeth. He catches himself and flips the page of the magazine he's pretending to read. Mutterings. Painful and obnoxious mutterings. Of course one day he'll catch that devil. _Yes, because we both know how that went for you last time, Lester dear._ He sneered as he watched him. His veins burned, his jaw clenching and teeth grinding. Such a narrow-minded fool, does anything but that ridiculous man exist when Lester's panting over him?  
Daken moves closer, unaware of the magazine on the counter torn to pieces. His wrist claw aching as the muscles spasm, unsure whether they should be bared or not. His hands sooth along Lester's shoulder, the tip of the claw barely grazing over the flesh, only just snagging the shirt he's wearing. He's purring into his ears, whispering sweet promises of all that Lester can do to him and what he can do in turn. Lester's shoulders roll, shrugging the siren off. Nothing else exists except Daredevil right now. Daken's fingers curl, with the fresh black polish on his somewhat pointed nails it looks like claws. He can't sink them into his flesh and claim him. Not right now. His spell isn't as strong as the promise the Devil brings to Lester. He growls, baring his teeth and bites at the shell of Lester's ear. He gets swatted for his trouble.   
“Not now.”

Ugliness. His face twists. Disposable. Unnecessary. Unimportant. The Devil holds a special place in Lester's heart that he can't possibly hope to tempt his way into. Parts of the marksman that he can't completely control, own, be desired and pursued. They may have their rutting, but he will never have the same Tom and Jerry cat and mouse game. They exist as perfect opposites. One cannot be without the other. Daken is easily substituted. He's temptation, an enabler, together they shall fall but only if Lester would allow it.  
The mutant stares at Lester's exposed neck. How he wants to choke the life out of him. Mangle and destroy him with his claws. How dare he not be the centre of everything. How dare he be so easily forgotten. _Sink your teeth into his flesh. Shake. Go for the kill. Punish him for his insolence._  
And yet this is how Lester is without the influence of pheromones. This is a naturally formed attraction. No manipulation involved.  
Of course he was never meant for this dedication. He's a distraction along the way.  
Substitution, just like always. He was Romulus' substitute, backup in case he couldn't control his father. He was Norman's substitute Wolverine. And now he's Lester's substitute for Daredevil. Second choice.

“I'll get him.”  
“Of course you will.”  
“I _will_.”  
“I don't doubt it. And when you do, shall I arrange the guest list and which church?”  
“The fuck are you talking about?”  
“Nothing, dear.”  
Lester shakes his head, returning his attention to the news channel. And once more Daken doesn't exist.


	4. Dangerzone / I'd Do Anything For Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lester's not just a fan of show tunes. He's also damn good at evaluations. Oh and singing.

There are times when he's fantastic at forgetting. Forgetting that he's waiting for the penny to drop, waiting for the time, Lester, will inevitably walk away. But he's on one of his highs. Even if he can be incredibly annoying if he's in the wrong mood, they're starting to grow on him.

The first time it happened was after a mission when they were working with Stormin' Norman. Daken had insisted on being one of the pilots because apparently no one really knew how the damn things worked after Bob decided to go berserk and everyone evac'd. Lester bound up the aisle and settled next to him, he was grinning like a child at Christmas who'd gotten everything on their list.  
“Close the cockpit off will ya, princess?”  
Daken quirked a brow, but happily did. He'd heard enough squabbling amongst the others to last him the day. Especially when his stomach was still doing flips after the last disembowelment – travelling always exacerbated it. The door closed and Lester plugged something into the dashboard. A walkman?  
As they set off he started to recognise the chords playing, different arrangement entirely, but there was no mistaking it. Lester was patting the flight stick to the rhythm of the music occasionally singing along. Perhaps if he wasn't such a psychopath and general basket-case he could have made something of it, he wasn't that bad on the ears. It was disgustingly infectious. Lester slapped Daken on the arm and made a vague gesture which probably equated to him demanding that he join in.  
“C'mon you gotta know this. You're old enough right?”  
“Will it make or break your day, dear?”  
“I'll just keep it playing the same song till you do. We kicked ass today, we gotta celebrate it.”  
“By in-flight karaoke?”  
“Damned, fucking, skippy.”

Daken conceded and eventually joined in. Maybe they should have had a hat down for tips because the arguing in the compartment behind them silenced after a while. If he wasn't high on the endorphins from the workout, he might have been spitting feathers at the others for the remarks about how they should be a duet. Instead, he owned it. And he might have even said that he enjoyed it. Not that they necessarily complimented each other's voices.

 

It was almost the exact same thing. Lester bound in high as a kite and demanded that they go for a drive, claiming he was going stir crazy.  
“Somewhere. I'm tired of looking at your shitty condo.”  
“I pick the music.”  
“I'm driving.”  
“I'll throw up on you, on purpose.”  
“Stop being a piss-baby, what were you really planning on doing with your day?”  
“You're incorrigible.”

The music was loud, power ballads. Clearly Lester had had a really good assignment the night before if he was this elated. The city lights were just starting to turn on as they sped across the highway, following signs pointing straight to the middle of nowhere. And then the damned piano keys. Rapidly playing. Since when had Lester been a fan of Meatloaf let alone love ballads? Daken looked from the iPod back to Lester. He was lost in the heat of the moment. His driving probably could have been equated to a rally driver rather than posing as a responsible civilian. He didn't really look at Daken, focusing on the road until they pulled up to traffic lights. He stopped. It was Lorraine Crosby's bit. Daken found himself singing along. It was single handedly the most painfully embarrassing thing he found himself doing. Had Lester planned this? Slowly they pulled out, leading out towards the back roads. Lester shot him a grin. Smug fucker. Smug fucker, he'd throw him out of the car and leave him there.

“You've got this habit of clamming up and sulking when someone pokes at something that bothers you, you know that?” Lester commented, turning the sound system down.  
“Should I be flattered that you notice things about me?” Daken leant against the window, avoidance techniques were a hard worked speciality of his.  
“You got jealous.”  
“Oh?”  
“I don't need your freakish telepathy to know.”  
“I do keep telling you it's not telepathy.”  
“There we go, avoiding it again. You got jealous of the Devil.”  
“Does it make you feel special to think that?” His brows raised, but his lips curled into a snarl.  
_You're above this. You don't need him. He's nothing. Entertain him for as long as you need him._

“You can sulk about it all you like, but it only proves my point, princess.”  
“Did you ever hear Anselm's argument for the existence of God?”  
Lester shook his head, giving Daken a once over. “No, what's that gotta do with this?”  
“Think of the most perfect thing you can. Does that perfect thing exist? If it doesn't exist it can't be perfect. God is perfection and therefore he must exist.”  
“Right?”  
“You sound as irrational as that fucking monk.”  
“So I did get it right.”

Daken's nose wrinkled. It wasn't a game of cat and mouse for the two. They decided they'd ascend further and to greater levels of pretentiousness. Murdock was the Devil, the one who punishes evil doers. Lester was God. The one who caused suffering and had an over-inflated sense of importance. He knew what happened when you viewed a creature as God. They were imperfect and deeply flawed. He wouldn't do that to himself again.  
“I'm not ditching you, dumbass.” The car had pulled to a stop. Beneath them was the view of the city. The lights flickering on in the sunset. Lester got out and sat on the bonnet, lighting up. Daken grimaced, staring at the offending iPod. He'd let himself be played by this man again. He was losing his touch. He followed suit and joined his partner. “You can tell a lot about a person by the music they listen to, or some shit like that.”  
“I can tell you need to get your head out of the 80's and let them stay there.”  
“And here you are, able to sing along word for word. Y'never got much enjoyment growing up did you?”  
“Did either of us?”  
“I create art, I enjoy what I do. You've never had any direction since you came back to the tower with those scars on your wrists. Not so sure of yourself.” Daken's fists clenched, there was a faint break in the tattoo that extended down his arm where Logan had ripped the Muramasa blades from his wrists. Romulus had made it possible for him to get that tattoo but never told him the secret, how it returned every time he was destroyed, damaged or burned as such, but the break in the pattern never healled.  
“You've never had your entire life yanked out from under your feet like carpet.”  
“I've been trapped in my own body more than once. I'd say that's similar.”  
“This isn't a who's got it worse competition. I was raised by a pathetic man who thought he controlled everything. I was his plaything, another tool for getting at Logan. He promised me the world and his empire but instead planned on handing it over to Logan all along.”  
“You make a lot more sense now.” So there had been an artist behind this mess. The fallout was still taking place. Putting himself back together time and time again after it was broken, frantically hoping that each time would be different. Raised and conditioned to be co-dependent on a specific care-giver but resentful of the entire thing. “But you've got better taste nowadays at least.”

“Says you.”  
“If you really hated me you'd walk.”  
“Who says I haven't thought about it?”  
“You've talked yourself into staying.” Lester raised a knowing brow, looking Daken over. He'd gone from being stretched out on the bonnet to his knees tucked under his chin. “You blow hot and cold with me 24/7, but you still come back.”  
“Now whose bitch is whose?”  
“Figure that's what romance is right? Simultaneously hating someone but being unable to live without them.”  
“You of all people can't preach to me what an emotional connection really is.”  
“I've seen the worst it brings out in people. Daddy dearest never had anything on the things I do to you. But he took advantage of what he had. Us and ma. Took it for granted. No one fucks you up worse than your parents do, but if you're smart you identify it and learn how to not end up like them.”  
“Your shrink tell you that?”  
“She was a cold bitch, but I had to admit she knew her shit.”  
“How long did you last with her?”  
“Longer than most.”  
“You're not being my shrink.”  
“There's a difference between just listening to people's shit and trying to fix them.” There were times Lester wondered how Daken was older than him, this was one of those moments. Then again he was equating age with wisdom. He may have experienced things, but if he was going to read between the lines, then this man who raised him must have kept him in a tightly restrained bubble of existence. Made sense why control was so important to him.  
“So, the question here I suppose is are you going to be like your father and take whatever this is for granted?”  
“Do you think I have? Or are you just looking for an excuse to get out?”  
“I don't think I know enough to make an opinion on that yet.”  
“That sounds like an excuse to stay.” Lester smirked, throwing the butt of the cigarette on the ground. He mashed it under his boot and shifted towards Daken's huddled form. “You want to. You're going soft on me Ice Queen.”  
“Coming from the man who sat on my front porch and refused to leave until I let him in.”  
“It was a highly symbolic moment”  
“Uh huh. So you dragged me all the way out here just so you could have a 'heart to heart' with me?”  
“Heat of the moment, it does things to you.”  
Daken made a dismissive noise, Lester's arm slipped around his waist and yanked him closer.  
“I'm not watching the sunset with you.”  
“Yeah you are. I've got your keys. Fight me.”  
“I can't be bothered.”  
“Then it doesn't matter that much.”

No, maybe it didn't, then.

 


	5. Through An Aquarium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daken decides to send a reminder to Lester, all with the unwitting help from a Mr. Murdock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Girl, you never run away from boys who always get away  
> Girl, you'd better run away from boys who always steal away
> 
> "Good luck", said the nightmare  
> So pretty but I already have  
> A house with a top hat and coat rack  
> Well, your hand's on his shoulder  
> You never did have feelings, did you?  
> And oh, you'd best get along  
> Said oh, you'd best get along  
> You'd best get along

“I'm surprised that you agreed to meet with me, all things considered.”  
“It's out in public, I doubt even you would try anything in broad daylight.”  
“Out in public is right where I want to be with you, dear~”  
Matt's nose wrinkled. Daken was toying with him and there was that element of acrid venom. He'd mastered the art of sounding genuine but he could hear it. His heart pounded but it was firm and steady. He was enjoying this. This wasn't just a simple meeting, it was obvious there were strings attached... or was he really enjoying it? He could tell the man was shifting, looking around. The tiniest noise from his shirt collar brushing against his skin. In the silence he was running his tongue over his canines. He was tense.  
“What's this really about?”  
“I'll get straight to the point then. I know who you are. Lester knows who you really are. I'm getting rather sick of being the other woman.”  
“...You're jealous?”  
“Jealousy is such an ugly word for what this is.” Daken leant forward. Matt found himself leaning back. Of course he'd get dragged into Lester's madness. He was now dealing with a bunny boiler. Beautiful. “I'm just establishing something with him. You're just here to make a point and be a very pretty piece of decoration.”  
“What makes you even believe that he's watching us?”  
“You and I both know he is. He's got such a distinctive presence about him.”

Matt sat up, leaning on the arm of the chair. He focused, straining to pick up on something he recognised. His mouth eased into a firm pressed line. The man was nearby, but he couldn't pin point him. Being a trained sniper he could stay still for prolonged periods of time. It started quietly, but began to pick up in pace. The erratic hammering of a familiar heartbeat. Vicious and malicious. The rhythm of a cold calculating killer. His yang. Daken must have gestured something because the heartbeat grew faster, he could almost hear the conniption he was having from here.  
“He won't do anything.” Matt uttered.  
“Perhaps.” Daken purred, leaning forwards. “I've been steadily feeding him a noxious combination lately. He doesn't know what he feels whenever I'm around I've been doing it for years. But you? I'm just getting started on what he'll be feeling when he sees you. Whenever he sees you on the news it's like he loses all sense of himself. He may have encountered you first, but I will make sure that he knows who really owns him. You'll wither away and be forgotten. I'm the eternal.”  
“For someone with all the time in the world, you're rushing this.” Matt's lip briefly quirked. He could hear Daken's chest pounding. He was almost as bad as Lester, falling into a state of rage at the sight of him. No, perhaps it was becoming it through something else. Resentment was a better term. He stood up, he'd heard more than enough. So much for peace and quiet.“Have him. He's all yours.”  
A hand snaked out and took a grip on his shoulder. To anyone else Daken would have looked like he was guiding his blind friend to a taxi. But the grip said otherwise. His nails dug into the suit, squeezing. This was obviously yet another point to be made.  
“You may believe it, but he doesn't. Not yet.” Daken purred. Despite his body telling him to flee, Matt found himself strangely relaxed as he was lead down the streets of Hell's Kitchen.

“Have you considered that you two are toxic for one another?” Matt's mouth felt dry. The sniper had moved, following them by the rooftops. He must have been frothing at the mouth by now.  
“Misery loves company, you of all people must understand that. After all however did either of you cope when the other wasn't in this world, hmm? You can't talk to me about toxic relationships when the two of you are decidedly co-dependent on one another.”  
“I think you're getting ahead of yourself..”  
“Maybe. Maybe not. I was trained to read between the lines.” And you two absolutely sicken me. “I'm going to make a point, and you're going to help me with it, all you have to do is let me walk you home.”  
“He's going to be pissed.”  
“That's exactly what I want.”  
“You're not worried?”  
“I've indulged him enough to know all that he's capable of. It doesn't matter what he does, I will always heal.”

Matt wanted to pull his arm away, tell Daken thanks, but no thanks and be on his way. And yet he was compelled to stay, indulge the maniac. He could hear the muscles in his arms flexing around those ferrous claws, how he was itching to bleed him dry. He was tense, holding back. He was the image of repression. Old as he may be, he didn't seem to act his age. Still petulant and immature. Dorian Gray syndrome. His blood was running cold in his veins, but his fight or flight instinct wasn't kicking in. Spider and the fly. Scorpion and the frog. Lester really had managed to find himself a siren. Siren caught between the Devil and a self-proclaimed God. Or perhaps he was more than a siren, something worse. An Incubus. A predator that lulled its victim into a false sense of security and then went for the kill.  
Matt's foot knocked against a step, he cursed under his breath for being so careless. Daken laughed and gave his arm a sharp squeeze. He felt the point of the mutant's wrist claw just grazing his skin.  
“I'll allow you to keep toying with him, but remember that you must return all belongings to their rightful owner once you're done.” Sugar sweet, laden with venom once more.  
“Don't contact me again, Daken. I'm not interested in your games.”  
“Likewise I'm absolutely sick of the sight of you. But sadly you're a necessary evil. He can't live without you.”  
“That must be difficult on you. Knowing you're not the most important thing to him.”  
There was that noise again, when he ran his tongue over his canines, sucking his teeth. Then there was warmth running down his hand and dripping on the pavement. The burning sensation shot up Matt's arm and he almost doubled over on himself. He gripped onto Daken's other arm to steady himself, his brain still trying to catch up with what just happened. He'd stabbed him. He'd actually stabbed him. Matt took a sharp breath to try and ignore it and carry on, he just had to get to the door and then he could bandage it up.  
“Nothing lasts forever Matthew. Not even you.” Daken let go of his arm, practically throwing him to the pavement.  
“At this rate you might not either. Good luck with him later.” Matt hissed through gritted teeth. Now was not the time to cause an altercation. With Lester watching them both intently he'd only join in the fray. Whilst he'd had worse, pick your battles was never a better piece of advice he could live by in this moment.  
“You too.” Daken'd gone back to wearing his bland poker-face he hid behind. With that he left the Devil to nurse his wounds. He had something better waiting for him.

Daken entered the apartment, it was silent. If he didn't have his sense of smell he wouldn't have known that Lester was waiting on the sofa. There was a knife. His brows knitted. Daken just smirked. He knew what he was in for. But attention was attention. Jealousy as ugly as a word as it was, still meant connection. It was a desire to possess something that wasn't necessarily yours.  
Above all, it was confirmation. The knife plunged into his shoulder, the twist and the insults his lover spat. Lester still wanted him. Just another little reminder. Just another something to give him heart and keep him going. The bruises and bloodshed were worth it, because it all meant something more.


	6. Coming Up Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daken gets creative with apron strings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lover of mine, hand over the key  
> The teeth have all long been gone  
> And darling divine, you're cutting my bones  
> With words you won't say, hands you don't hold  
> Better the last time, sweeter than this time  
> See that you're older still  
> What turned you around, pushing you down?  
> My lips are in bloom fighting your frown

He's tense under his grip. He's writhing, gagging. Daken bares his upper teeth, that insidious and wretched way he shows just how much he's enjoying himself. The fabric is flimsy but he makes it work. He doesn't try to silence the noises Lester's making. He wants the whole world to hear it. He wants them to see it. He wants the damned Devil to see it as a reminder. Try as he might to claim that he doesn't have any form of monopoly over his 'god' counterpart, he knows he does. He can't not. The whole world sees it. Their obsession. Their co-dependency. The symbiotic nature of their relationship. One cannot exist without the other. This isn't the first time he's had to forcibly remind Lester he's the only one he needs, and it most definitely won't be the last.   
Daken loosens the strings for a moment, gives him just enough time to fill his lungs once more and watch his face return to a somewhat normal colour. Lester doesn't stop tensing, he's still planning his next move. He tightens the strings once again. This entire game is disgusting and growing tedious. It's ruining him. Pulling him from his pedestal. He was above this. He didn't have feelings. He didn't stoop to this. And here he is. Being the bunny boiler Murdock accused him of being. He's fallen. If he falls then he drags this pathetic man down with him. He'll burn him alive. Tear him to bits.   
  
Lester grabs his wrist.  
 _Too much._  
Daken's mouth grows dry and his hands tremble. _Do not falter. Don't show mercy. Don't give him the power. You've seen what happens when you do. He'll just use you. You're meant to be taking him for all he's got, not the other way around._  
And yet he let the drawstrings of the apron drop. Lester stayed where he was, rubbing the fabric burns that were flaring up on his throat. The food was burnt. Daken turned the hob off, giving up on whatever he'd started making. He didn't move to help the other up, just looked over him coldly.   
“Strangling me with apron strings. Someone's desperate.”  
“You disgust me.”   
“Cold shoulder again, princess?” He barked with laugher, voice raw. “I thought you'd gotten your revenge?”  
“You stabbed me. I had to return the favour. Balance and such.”  
“Yeah, fucking right.”  
“Either way, dinner's ruined. It's your fault.”  
“Everything'd be my fault if you had your way.”  
“Things would be very different if I had my way.”  
“You're the most depressing fuck I've ever met, you know that princess?”  
“I'm the best fuck you've ever met or will ever have.” Daken rolled his eyes.  
“You're the most desperate. Can't say what you want, always got to be with the damn mind games.” Lester drove his middle finger against his temple and twisted, flipping Daken off in the process. “What the fuck do you think will happen if you just say?”

Silence fell over them once more as Daken left the kitchenette. The mutant opened the glass door to the back garden and stepped out into the rain. Lester watched him and gave a dismissive huff, rubbing his throat still. It'd all been a frenzied blur. Whenever he got comfortable with Daken, the idiot would have to shake it all up again. Man was too paranoid. Scared. He'd garnered bits and pieces about Romulus, scarce nuggets of information here and there. And he thought he was damaged. He was a product like him, but Daken had always had the groundwork there. Taken from the womb too early to cause enough trauma to the brain to give him biological psychosis. Healing factor or not, it'd never been able to fix it. Unless it was 'natural' in him anyway. Hallucinations, paranoia and delusions. Romulus had made him a victim of his own illness and made sure he stayed trapped there. Not that he was a saint either. He'd had similar experiences back in the bad days. But maybe in some ways the difference was he'd always had the choice. Now Daken was faced with the choice he stuck with what he knew. Damaged himself further because he didn't know any better.   
Lester shook his head. Now was not the time to start feeling sorry for the pissbag after he'd just been strangled for asking how long dinner was going to be. Choice or no, he'd made his bed and this was the person he was. He was rotten, malicious and delighted in his despair. If he wanted saving from himself he'd have made nice with daddy dearest and pleaded his way into that joke of a school.  
“You're gonna start bitching at me about how cold you are later if you stay out there.”  
Silence.  
“You having some Shawshank epiphany I'm interrupting?”  
Shoulders sagged.  
“Come on, the hell are you really doing right now? You're just sulking.”  
Shoulders shook. Fists clenched.  
Lester sighed, resigning himself to getting soaked as he stepped into the downpour.   
“You hate the rain and you hate being cold. Why the shit are you doing this to yourself and making me come out here to get you in?”  
His eyes were closed as he shook his head, head dipped. Avoidance methods. Submissiveness, trying to get him to lessen the inevitable punishment. And he thought he was bad when he was on the wrong dosage of medication. This was a potential for what he could be like. An imbalanced emotional wreck unable to deal with something so mundane. Outside of being a weapon he was completely useless for a basic social life. Everything had something riding on it. It was never just, can you pass me the salt, I need it. It was I want you to hand over everything you have in life for the price of salt because I'm actually manipulating you into thinking this is all I want but the greater price will come later. Or some bullshit.

“Okay. You strangled me. Great. We'll deal with that later, just get inside. I'm getting soaked too, you fucking happy?” Perhaps he shouldn't have been taking the tone he was. The husky bark in his voice had gotten worse. He wasn't yelling at him, he was just frustrated with how stupid this entire situation really was. “What is this even about? Really? You're jealous? Cool, me too. How can I not be when you're fucking most of the US because you can. But in the end you're always back in my bed, you don't give a shit about them. You give a shit about this, otherwise you wouldn't be being such an asshole. This isn't a game anymore and that scares you.”  
“Shut up.”  
“Or what? You'll strangle me and burn my dinner again, trophy wife?”  
“Please, just stop. For five minutes. Just stop.”  
“Come inside and I will. That's all there is to this. Cause even with your healing factor, you'll bitch about how you'll catch a cold and you'll sneeze all over me.”  
“It's never just that, Lester. Every action, every word, everything carries heavier connotations. Your body language, your tone. Whether you realise it or not, everything says something.”  
“Then remind me to get a translator for you. If you're gonna start going on about how everything has meaning you can't leave me guessing. Meet me halfway. Get it?”  
“I'm as angry with myself as I am with you. I'm leaving it at that.”  
“You ready to go inside?”  
Daken hummed with a nod.   
“The hell were you even saying to Murdock?”  
“How you'd get pissed off seeing us together.”  
“You know me so well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me your secrets, I'll ask you no questions  
> Braving your mountaintop  
> When I'm around you, when I'm allowed to  
> Taking my chances, I'd make a fortune  
> I'll love you, I'll love you- the darkest part of you  
> Write you the sweetest song  
> Drop down from the ledges, hand over defenses  
> I'm longing to see you through white picket fences


	7. Over Cold Shoulders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lester remembers a party during his time at the Dark Avengers and one that Daken convinced him to attend as his plus one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Over and over  
> Look over your shoulder  
> At all of the soot on the ground  
> Oh, it's been falling down  
> From the moment you got into town  
> You're older, you're bolder  
> You've never been colder  
> You come in here looking for more  
> And oh, you take all you can fit in your arms  
> When you walk out the door'

PR dinners were common, always Osborn offering to introduce his business clients to the 'Avengers' in order to sweeten deals. Promising people things and trading off his team like they were currency. It wasn't a secret that this caused issues amongst the group. Karla of course would get the men who could barely contain themselves around her, she knew how to handle herself. Tease and keep them at just the right distance to keep them enticed but not back herself into an uncomfortable situation. It was incredibly masterful to watch, she was a beautiful manipulator. It was easy to pick up a cheap lay at these events, desperate socialites hoping to make a name for themselves, measuring their worth by which Avenger they bedded.  
Some nights Daken entertained them, and others he scorned their efforts. The sound of being referred to as 'Wolverine' leaving him wanting to flay each and every guest at the party along with his team. Tonight, the bravado was wearing thin. The way his jaw tensed when he feigned a smile. The cowl was intrusive and sitting uncomfortably. No matter how he shifted it didn't feel right. At previous PR parties or televised events he'd been able to just wear the suit and contentedly show his face. He hid in plain sight. Wasn't it supposed to be that wearing a mask made it easier? No his own face was his mask. He'd finely crafted it after all these years of rigorous tutelage.  
When someone walked past, their hand ghosting over his upper arm, his shoulders tensed. He didn't see actually who it was, staring into deep space and being lost in thought was much more appealing than just how dull and pretentious this all was. The wine and champaign was terrible and acrid. The canapés mediocre. Everyone was trying far too hard. Perhaps Osborn's visage was wearing a little bit thin. This couldn't even begin to hold a candle to the party that he had actually wanted to attend. It almost felt a little like when he said months ago that he'd be away tonight that Osborn planned this deliberately. Denial. Restriction. Constraint. Caged. This was feeling just that little bit uncomfortably familiar.  
_Just another replacement_ -

“You look like you're about to solve life's greatest mysteries, princess.”  
“And what mystery is that?”  
“Why Osborn can't throw a decent party for shit.”  
“That doesn't even warrant being a question, that's a statement.”  
Lester snorted, leaning next to Daken and handing him a fresh glass. Daken caught the scent. It didn't smell like the other cheap noxious stuff going around.  
“So we've got three options. We make the best of this shit show. We.. reclaim the party and show them how it's done. Or we blow this joint and sneak out.”  
“Lester, darling are you suggesting that we break curfew?~ Naughty naughty boy.”  
“Alright, faggot, keep your panties on. I'm only askin' cause I'm as fucking bored as you are.”  
“I think you're trying to do something nice for me~”  
“This is for me more than you. I just know you have an invitation to a better party across town.”  
“And you want to be my plus one?”  
“I'm just saying.”  
Daken grinned and knocked back the glass of wine. This was definitely good. Had Lester raided Osborn's private stash again? Perhaps he was starting to like this adventurous side more and more.  
“Am I going to be your salvation? Do ask me nicely, I might consider it.”  
“I'm not fucking begging. You want this as much as I do.”  
“Then I have a proposition for you.” Daken thought he could see Lester's eyes narrowing through the ridiculous purple monstrosity of a cowl. He was interested but didn't want to admit it. “If you want to come party with me then you'd better keep up. Who knows, I might have you begging later on.”  
“Fat chance. I'm not begging you for anything.”  
“Then I suppose I'll just go by myself then.” The hook had definitely snagged. As Daken made to walk away, Lester grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Smirking, the mutant almost twirled back into Lester's arms, nearly knocking the glass from his hand in surprise. He could feel the heat radiating from his face, and that wasn't the alcohol.  
“Just get me out of this fucking place. You can dump me at the damn bar for all I care and go fuck all the faggots and pussies you want.”  
“And not cause a scene here?”  
“I'm not in the mood to deal with Stormin' Norman's bitch fit, and neither are you.”  
“Ditch the cowl, meet me at my room and then we'll go. This isn't a black tie event. Dress stylishly. If you need help I can find something for you.”

Daken gave him a one armed squeeze around the curve of his back before disappearing into the crowd. He'd already seemed to spring into life. Lester had been watching him graduate from the middle of the room to hanging by the wall. He specialised in pretending to be the socialite, but only on his terms. Extrovert the shit may pretend to be, but he was introverted by nature. Lester could gleam that much at least. _I'm working you out you fucking asshole. You may have everyone else under your spell, but I'll prove what you really are soon._

 

Surprisingly, Lester was capable of scrubbing up very nicely. Even if Daken did have to adjust his outfit. Crisp white shirt, well fitting jeans and black dress shoes. Very pleasantly surprised. The only thing he added to top it off was a slate grey suit jacket that he pushed the sleeves up on slightly. Stylish but casual, after all that was all the rage people were eating up right now in models. Daken was sporting a shirt and waistcoat combination, it was just the right level of comfortable for him. Unbuttoned enough to show off his tattoo, shameless but somehow he pulled it off because of that air of arrogant confidence. He didn't care what other people thought and that was what was so intoxicating about him. Lester's eyes narrowed as he watched him tie his laces. Apathy was tangible with Daken and he couldn't put his finger on why. He had his way, so why did he still seem so.. discontent?

“Are we ready to leave, dear?” Daken cocked his head, catching Lester's gaze.  
_Why does he always look like he comes alive when I'm watching him? Is he really that insecure that he needs constant recognition? No he's just messing with me again. Asshole, stop giving me that look._  
“Waiting to see if you were done preening, princess.”  
“I can do the finishing touches in the car. You're driving by the way.”  
Lester tsked as Daken looped his arm around his. All about making a big fricking show of it. He turned his communicator off, didn't need Osborn screwing this up. Daken didn't even seem to bother taking his, leaving it carelessly on his bedside table. He thought he caught a glimpse of torn burnt orange spandex poking from behind the bed, making a mental note to see if he could get a better look at it later that night. _Like you're letting him talk you into taking him to bed._

The party itself was, strangely painless. Sure he couldn't stand just how pathetic these people were, all about appearances. But these people weren't drooling over them like they were a circus attraction, it was the dresses and outfits displayed on mannequins and well trained models. He expected Daken to ditch him whilst he mingled, but wherever he went, he dragged Lester. This was something that he enjoyed. The way he engaged the designers and got into constructive conversations about the clothing like it was art. And after a while Lester was starting to believe it himself. The more Daken explained it, pointing out stitches used, the way the fabric fell or even something so simple as usage of darts. To Lester, clothes were a necessity, not something to proudly display. Worst part of it was when he found himself asking questions about it. The asshole was getting even more infectious than he was comfortable with admitting.  
“You're enjoying yourself.” Daken purred, contentedly leaning on Lester's shoulder. He made to make a noise of protest only to be hushed by him. How much had Daken even had to drink? “It's not a criticism.”

_You didn't even see it coming_ __  
_You know you should've seen it coming_ __  
_You might have even seen it coming_ __  
_You could have would have seen it all_ _  
_ _Could have would have had it all_

  
Lester found himself deflating from his attempted bristling. Everything was always a subtle or unsubtle dig with Daken. To see him at ease was almost a little unnerving. Like a cat coming down from catnip. How long had they even been at the party?  
“If you weren't, then this wouldn't have been quite so pleasant.”  
“Starting to see why you were disappointed about not being able to come here.”  
“They gather once every three years. Not sure why the time. Triangles and how it's a strong shape because of it's structure or something technical. All the clothing you see here shows their progress across those three years. What they've learned and new phases they go through, inspirations and even their failures.”  
“I thought designers only show their best.”  
“How can you recognise their best unless you see their worst?”  
It felt like a penny drop moment. But knowing Daken's normal attitude, something made him feel like this was a spider inviting a fly into its parlour. Daken's motives were unknown, but he was always in it for himself.  
“Something to think on.” The mutant shrugged, then checked his watch. “Perhaps we should return? Osborn might just have realised that we're not there.”  
You're letting him drag you around like some puppet for display. You're a trophy to him. Just another one of his petty conquests to prove that he can to himself.  
“You're more than welcome to stay in my room tonight.”  
“No chance.”  
“I want to show you my best.” Daken used that tone again and Lester's teeth gritted. How. What was he doing? Was he psychic or just some damn siren? How did he know the right things to say? He was almost convinced that this was a genuine show of affection. And just when he'd seemed to be in so good with Karla. Something had happened to make her not want to be quite so chummy with him. Had he turned her down? Maybe he only fucked women for show. With hair and fashion taste like that perhaps he really shouldn't have been all that surprised.

 

Somehow, Lester found himself in Daken's room. The mutant knelt above him and removing his shirt. Yes, they may have had one or two brief encounters together before this. But it'd been a simple matter of blowing off steam. They'd both had a need and were just being practical about it, given their tastes, they matched.  
Lester covered his fingers liberally in one of the lubes Daken had stashed in his bedside table and slipped his middle finger in Daken. He was met with very little resistance, either Daken did this too much, had great muscle control or he was just.. relaxed. He'd never really bothered to prep him before though, but part of him was wondering why. Daken was all about show, yet he was throwing himself into this with an almost reckless abandon. Just what was he toying with? Trying to keep him under his thumb? Caustic words were the hook and now he was showing him the proverbial carrot to this arrangement? He wouldn't say he was intrigued. Not yet anyway.  
He worked Daken's hole, free hand palming at his erection. The mutant was much more passive than in the past, arms wrapped around his shoulders and his face nuzzling at the crook of his neck; sighing each time he brushed over his prostate. Hyper sensitive and over-eager, Daken shifted his hips, trying to line himself up with Lester's cock.  
“You're making a hell of a lot of demands tonight. What if I'm not ready to yet?” Daken groaned as Lester's fingers pulled out, leaving only one inside him. He wanted to feel full. Feel the heat inside him and ride it out.  
“I'm putting my needs first. Let me be just a little selfish, mm?”  
“What happened to your mask?”  
Daken hissed, perhaps this wasn't the time to push it. But Lester needed to know if he was right. It wasn't like he couldn't understand it, he'd be pissed if people only wanted him for the sake of heritage.  
“I got bored of playing charades.”  
Lester laughed, “Never see the resemblance until you pop the claws anyway.”  
He found their lips mashed together. Kissing was something they left off the table normally, but Daken was all but trying to devour him with how fervently he was kissing him. _Gotcha._  
He entered Daken with ease, rocking his hips to match rhythm. There was that desperation again and forget about noise control. Who was supposed to be begging who? He knew Daken was a massive slut, but this was the sort of thing he didn't expect from him. Always presented himself as too good for it. Denial. Repression. Caged. _Someone's learning to live it up a little._ Lester smirked to himself, finally giving his all, kissing the other back. He didn't taste too bad, and damn was he receptive. Nice and tight, riding him perfectly, he was the perfect whore.

He'd surrendered himself to him that night, something Lester only began to realise years later, looking back on the whole thing. That night stayed with him, and not just because he'd thoroughly had his brains fucked out. It was how alive Daken seemed that night. Perhaps that was why he pushed him so much after that, hoping to provoke that fire from him once more. Not that he wasn't a good fuck anyway, maybe that was why it made so much sense when Daken had made such a fool of him that night and belittled his feelings for him in the back of that taxi. How it made him seethe. _I'm not the only one afflicted by this and you know it. Don't you dare pretend you're above this, because I've seen you at your best. I've seen you in the heat of the moment, what you're really capable of. I'm sick of this half baked attitude you've been spoon feeding me since that night. But I know if you really didn't want this you wouldn't still be here. I wouldn't be sleeping next to you._  
“Now who's trying to work out life's mysteries?” Daken rolled on his back, looking up at Lester. His legs were draped over his lap and feet resting on the sofa arm.  
“Just thinking back on that time we skipped Norman's party to go to your soirée.”  
“Oh? ..Mm, good night.”  
“You remember what you said to me about those designers?”  
“Which bit? We did an awful lot of talking that night. I don't think I've ever heard you say that much since.”  
“About they display their best and their worst.”  
Daken blinked at him for a moment, mulling over the statement. It must have triggered something of a flashback because he looked lost in his own head again.  
“What about it?”  
“Just thinking out loud.” Lester shrugged. He hated himself just that little bit for not driving the point home. He could have dug at that wound, torn it open until he found the vein. But tonight maybe he was feeling generous enough to let it slide. He wasn't Daken's pet anymore. He didn't have to humiliate him to make a point. Hell half the reason Daken was being such a bitch with him lately was because _he_ didn't feel he had enough control. Romulus may have had an idea for you, but I don't think you're his product. You're your own. You're not even Logan's. They may have influenced you at points, but everyone needs inspiration from outside sources.  
“Fucking sap.”  
“Prissy bitch.”  
“Pissbag.”  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Father, oh father  
> Your sons and your daughters  
> They'll learn how to stand on their own  
> Oh, when a slap on the left  
> And a kick to the right's all they know  
> Daily, or daily  
> But then again maybe  
> You'll learn how to love what you have  
> Oh, if you'll find there is more to the scheme  
> Than to give or to grab'  
> \- Over Cold Shoulders by Eliza Rickman 


	8. Black Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daken approaches Matt Murdock once more, but this time with something of a good will gesture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Don't let him know  
> Don't let it show  
> You reap what you sow  
> Take this black rose
> 
> Stay, lady, stay  
> Cross my back door  
> You know you grow your own  
> Pray, baby, pray  
> Over our sins  
> And oh, we'll grow our own'

“The last time I met with you, you harassed me, stabbed me and had a voyeur panting through a scope at us.”  
“No one said you had to meet me.”

  
Matt was actually more than content that he couldn't see whatever smug expression Daken had to be making. His tone had that playful lilt in it once more. Of course he was playful, he thought he had the reigns on this one at the moment. A complete and total child. Sulk and lash out if he lost control.  
“Face it, Matt. You're intrigued.” Daken took a sip of his tea. He wasn't as tense as he was last time. On the contrary, rather than being in Matt's personal bubble, he was leant on the back of the chair, one leg over the other and enjoying the clear sky above them. “I'll be the first to admit we're a trainwreck.”  
“I still feel like I'm missing something.”  
“You wouldn't be the only one.”  
“So you're not here to attack me this time?”  
“On the contrary, I'm here to find out more about  _you_ , mister Murdock. Find out what makes you so special.”   
Matt shifted, uncomfortably. Whilst Daken had never really come up on his radar before their first meeting, he'd had the good sense to do some digging of his own. He knew of the official stuff, Wolverine's estranged son, worked with Bullseye in the Dark Avengers and was the only one to not be arrested after the siege on Asgard. He disappeared, something Daken was remarkably good at doing, not to mention covering his tracks. After that he took over Madripor, left it in disarray and got involved with a rogue member of the Pride in LA which lead to his 'demise'. Then the Brotherhood of evil mutants, horseman of the apocalypse... now what? After everything and his track record, settling down didn't seem to be something on his cards. It didn't add up.

  
“I think you already know enough about me.”  
“Of course, I could do exactly what you will have done. I've done my own digging. We're both shrewd creatures by nature, Matt. I'm just better at covering my tracks.” Daken huffed in amusement. It set Matt's blood almost to the boil. There were many things he could compare him to. A snake in the grass, a weasel, a trickster, a shadow, a ghost. He was trained to disappear in and out of existence, a weapon. Well it ran in the Howlett bloodline. “What I really mean is, I want to know why Lester turns into a bitch in heat around you.”  
“Can you not use that term?”  
“I want you to understand just how extreme it is. You are aware how obsessed he is, aren't you?”  
“How could I not be?”  
“Since we last met, I've come to realise that you're.. perhaps something I'm going to just have to put up with. A little bump in the road.”  
He could hear Lester's voice now. _That's fucking rich, princess, given how many notches you've got in your bedpost._  
“So you're just here to work out your competition? I told you. You can  _have_ him. I'm sure you're made for one another.”  
“I want to come to an agreement.”  
“Over what?” An agreement? It sounded closer to making a deal with, bad taste aside, the devil. Matt knew in law there were times that deals could be beneficial, but they had a tendency to get in the way of what mattered.  
“He claims to want to kill you, but I've seen what happened when he did. Without you, he's like a dog without his tail. He's pathetic. He simply can't function without you. As much as we all seem to have a revolving door policy with death for whatever grand scheme there may be..”  
Matt soothed his hand over his chin. One minute Daken wanted to watch him in pain and now he was offering him 'salvation' from Lester.  
“I can handle him, you know that.”  
“Yes, but neither of you  _really_ want to kill each other. You just enjoy the thrill. You're Tom and Jerry. You'll always be at this. Lester has a deeply obsessive personality and you just enjoy beating the shit out of people you deem 'the bad guy'.”  
“So you're now saying that you're 'alright' with it.” Keeping up with Daken was getting difficult. He was contradictory in so many ways. How he could bounce back from bitterness and anger so quickly. Control, it's always about control. Matt's lip almost curled into a sneer as he spoke, his poker face was sometimes awful.“But then again, you  _have_ to be, otherwise we end up with what happened the last time we met don't we?”  
He waited for the snap. For the self-control to wear thin in him, to lash out once more. But it didn't come.  _So he's built up a resistance. Alright, can't use the same trick twice on him_.  
“Take this as a show of good faith, Matty.” That purr again. It made Matt's skin crawl. Just how saccharine and smooth he presented himself as. To top it off, his heart wasn't pounding. He wasn't lying and that made it feel all the worse. “We all need to make compromises with those  _dear_ to us. I'm sure I'm no paragon to Lester, but he lets my habits slide.”  
“I'm  _so_ happy for you.” Matt replied flatly. “Are we done here?”  
“Do I unsettle you that much? I'm sure we could be great friends. I'm just such a people person once you get to know me.”  
“We both know that isn't going to happen.”  
“So rigid in your morality.” Daken tsked, lacing his fingers. Matt was in fight or flight mode. His chest was pounding, slow and heavily. Unsure, disturbed, fearful of consequences perhaps. After all, he could only guess the repercussions that Lester inflicted on him after their meeting. He sure got an earful on his part. “Nothing is really quite so black and white as people make it out to be. You love to believe yourself a lawful good don't you? You're more of a chaotic good once you get into the heat of the moment aren't you? How you delight in hearing the bones crush beneath your fists.”  
“I'm going.”  
“No you're not. You're all talk and you're fascinated. After all,” Daken spread his arms out, not that Matt could really tell. “I can provide you with some very vital insights into your greatest enemy. I could tip the scales in your favour so you never have to deal with him again. I could tell you what his weaknesses are. What medication he's on right now, his current psychiatrist.” __The fact I've been feeding you a steady dose of soothing pheromones. I'll have the both of you within my net. Keep you both apart and docile. I'll be the one to hold the reigns on this whether either of you realise it or not.  
“And what's in it for you?”  
“You don't kill him, he doesn't kill you.”  
“I don't care if he tries to kill me-”  
“No, of course you don't. It's everyone else. But really Matty, how can you stop him if you're dead? Food for thought perhaps.” Daken cocked his head and flicked his tongue over his lips.“Perhaps it's also because Lester himself doesn't understand himself sometimes. When he realised he was attracted to me, he spent all his time trying to kill me too. But my healing factor kept me alive, it forced him to come to terms with it. He even began to enjoy the fact I had it.”  
Matt blanched. The grip on his sight stick tightened. It wasn't unheard of within criminal law, and yes Lester did have an unhealthy attraction to death and gore. But the thought hadn't even begun to cross his mind.

  
“With Lester you really do reap what you sow. So easily impressionable. He probably doesn't even really realise it himself. After all, chasing after such a _handsome_ specimen all this time.” He wasn't going for the kill yet. But he certainly had his teeth in his neck. Tormenting him, distracting him, oh but how wonderful would this be to watch? How deeply uncomfortable it was making him. He could just imagine Lester's face if he was confronted about it. He could die of laughter. Of course he would never be Lester's one and only when the possibility of Matt existed. But Lester was expendable, even if he thought fondly of him.  
  
Difficult to understand as Daken was, Matt was starting to understand things himself. Secretive as Daken was, he was laying his cards on the table. Honesty. Give something to get something. He was definitely bargaining, but it was the whys he still couldn't grasp. He spoke like Lester meant nothing to him, and yet here he was doggedly fighting to make sure that he stayed with him. Reading between the lines there was also now a relationship between the two of them. Were either of them even capable of loving? Or was this their badly crafted attempt at it? Drawn together through their flaws? More importantly, why in the hell was he now getting dragged into it all? Lester gets into a relationship so now he has to be included too?  
  
“I really think I've heard enough Daken. And don't try to walk me home. If you two have issues, I'm not being used as a bargaining chip so you can keep him.” Matt's jaw clenched, trying to not speak too loud and cause a scene. Who the hell even talks so openly about this in public anyway? “You ever heard of couple's therapy? Maybe that'd be easier than contacting me and playing mind games.”  
“Which is more entertaining though?”  
“Goodbye Daken.”  
“Goodbye is so firm. See you around is far more accurate, darling.”  
“Sexual harassment is something I could call you up on.”  
“The real question is do you really care, or are you just now nervous with the information I've just given you. Think on it. Reflect and see where it takes you.”  
“He isn't watching.”  
“Not this time. I told him in a very graphic fashion how I intended to meet with certain people.”

  
_ Lester has me and you've got your other playthings. Of course it couldn't be simple. Of course not.  _ Matt huffed, leaving the cafe and Daken behind him. Part of him was starting to wonder if it would have been easier to have just let that shot Lester made at him land all those years ago. But then again, Daken was the other end of the scale. What would have happened potentially if he had. He shuddered at the thought and carried on, resolving to never look back at this conversation. That'd give Daken exactly what he wanted and he wasn't about to indulge another obsessive psychopath.  
The devil and a self-proclaimed god fighting with something worse lurking in shadows, hungrily observing the fray. Perhaps Daken wasn't a siren after all, but something closer to an eldritch abomination. A dark remnant of god-like creatures long forgotten, beckoning people into their void. Humans couldn't comprehend them without an expense to their sanity. The rules they did follow were beyond mortal understanding, they delighted in their grotesque mockeries of what was understood to be natural law. All Matt knew from those warped stories was, nothing ended well for anyone involved. Once involved with these beings, there was no escape.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Pull, baby, pull  
> Plant your good deeds  
> And oh, you grow your own  
> And crawl, baby, crawl  
> And fall on your knees  
> And oh, I'll grow my own
> 
> Don't let him know  
> Don't let it show  
> You reap what you sow  
> Take this black rose  
> My black rose'  
> \- Black Rose, By Eliza Rickman


	9. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lester asked Daken a favour once back in the Dark Avengers to get revenge on Mac for him. Daken, naturally, has his own ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'He licked his lips  
> Said to me  
> Girl you look good enough to eat  
> Put his arms around me  
> Said "Boy now get your paws right off me" '

“You're a bit of a perv aren't you?”  
“Yes.” He shifted closer. They stared at one another for a very long moment. Daken put his arm over the back of the sofa. His brows were raised as he watched Mac crumble internally.

This had all started as a bet. Really it wasn't any skin off Daken's nose. Lester always had to be the one to take Mac to go pick up girls and consequently watch the corrupted symbiote devour them. Last night had been an especially rough one, gruesome to the extent that even Lester, the king of grotesquely artistic deaths had to turn away and resign himself to his happy place. So naturally he turned to the only person he knew who could make a grown-ass man shit himself. What was off-putting about it all was how contentedly Daken agreed to it, he didn't even ask for anything in return.  _ Freakshow _ . Lester's nose wrinkled as he watched him. How was he going to swing it? How the hell did it come so damn easily to him?

“I should go.”  
“Now, now, Mac.” Daken held onto his wrist as he started to get up. It seemed gentle on his part. He offered the other man a soft pleasant smile. His hand shifted from his wrist to hook their fingers. The damn whore had this down to an art. “You're curious and you know I can indulge you. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't just a little.. curious myself about what the two of you are capable of.”  
“You really  _are_ a perv.”  
“You approached me, dear. No judgements on my part.” Mac shifted, looking around. _Smelling_ if there was anyone else around to spy what was happening. Asides the 'hidden' cameras, they seemed to be alone. Thankfully he didn't pick up on the pheromones that Daken had doused Lester in so he wouldn't be detected. “There's no need to be so coy about pleasure. Leave that to the British, hmm?”  
The symbiote must have been whispering to him, because Mac seemed to be looking around once more. But his motions were far more rigid, fixated. Daken never heard anything, but something always felt a little different around Mac when it happened. It'd happened in the middle of a meeting once, pissed Norman off to no end, so naturally everyone encouraged him to keep doing it on the sly.

“...What did y'have in mind?”  
“I'm easy, you should know that.”  
“Yeah. Easy like a fucking angler fish. What's the catch? Don't think I don't know about what you and Bullseye do on your downtime.”  
“And he's still in one piece. Surely that's enough assurance that I'm in this for the gratification as much as you are.”  
_He lies, but he is weak._ The Symbiote hissed. _He is no threat to us._

Daken's brows raised, watching that distant expression again. Mac looked around the room once again before getting up off the sofa.  
“Alright, but you're staying the hell away from my ass.” Daken gave him a pleasant little smile, _ Oh please that's exactly what this is about for you _ . He thought to himself as he followed suit.

Lester hung back by the water cooler, watching them intently as they slipped down the hall. If he didn't know Mac better then he might have thought Daken had done something. The guy was a fucking mess after the symbiote attached itself to him combined with the medication and the serum from his scorpion suit. Funny how Daken always preyed on the weak. Predator through and through. He sipped his drink, feeling a tug in his chest. Why the fuck was he  _ annoyed _ ? This was what he wanted, knowing exactly what Daken was capable of, this'd be a breeze. No, don't start getting worried of all fucking things. The guy has and will heal from worse than what Mac could do, like he'd even  _ let _ him, unless he was into some really sick shit. Carve him up as he might, Daken never screamed until he went too far. Just watched him with that glazed over expression, like it was business as usual. He can't have been the only one to test that healing factor of his.  _ You may not want to watch this you know. Listen if you really need your kicks. But you won't be able to handle this.  
_ “I know my own damn limits.” Lester finished the cup of water and threw it absently into the bin. Daken couldn't tell him what he could or couldn't handle.

 

Turned out that Mac really was as easy as Daken thought he would be. He just needed to suck his dick through his suit and he seemed to think it was the greatest thing anyone had ever done. Easily pleased. It was too easy and the mutant rapidly found himself getting bored with the prospect. Lester had managed to screw him without even lifting a finger. It wasn't his fault that the man couldn't admit that he enjoyed getting prostate massages. He almost wanted to sigh, he did, and cursed himself for the break in his cock-hungry façade he put on for Mac's sake, but the idiot seemed to take it as a sigh of delight than boredom. He laid his palms flat against Mac's hips, feeling the suit shift and convulse under his touch. It set the hairs down the back of his neck on edge, a prickling sensation going down his spine. _Just get through this monotony and he'll be putty in your hands. Play the game._  
Mac's hands found themselves in Daken's hair, the suit shifted, allowing for his erection to be known. He had enough time to get a look at exactly what he was faced with before Mac forced his cock in his mouth. The symbiote had become closer to an extra layer of skin than a costume. Perhaps the alien was just as intrigued about what he was capable of as its host. If he wasn't so well trained, he might have gagged at the force Mac was rocking his hips at. He was greedy, wanted quick relief. Daken was a means to an end. Good, made it all the more simple.  
Daken winced, tilting his head as he took more into his mouth swirling as much of his tongue as he could around the shaft. The possibilities with this creature were endless, and yet it ended up on the most unimaginative man in the world. He'd have to change that. After all planting ideas was his speciality.  
“ _You're bored of usss, aren't you?”_  
He almost choked, trying to pull away from Mac and look up at him, but the hand stayed thoroughly in place. Looking up as best he could, the man's mouth had contorted, much wider than a human was capable. The teeth were a giveaway.  
“ _We hungerrr. This host makes us so hungry. We grow tired of such hungerrr._ ”  
The mutant's brow quirked as he continued his task, albeit not so desperate to rush him to finish now. The fingers laced in his hair had curled, grown sharper. The symbiote was taking the front seat on this one. If he could smirk, he would have. Perhaps it picked up on his mental pleas to not be stuck with Mac all evening.

“ _What do you hope to gain from usss?_ ”  
The hands in his hair loosened their grip, allowing him to ease back. He watched the symbiote all the while, looking up through a lidded gazed. He toyed with the tip, working the shaft gently with his left hand. His tongue dipped into the tip, easing back the foreskin with his rhythm.  
“I'm fascinated by possibilities. Forgive me for reducing you to a sexual object, but I've grown a little bored with the mundane.” He purred, kissing down the length and along his pubic bone. The jet black skin was sleek and smooth. He almost expected it to feel like pvc or latex, but it was very definitely flesh. “Perhaps you'll indulge me?”  
“ _You have our interesssst_.”  
Daken's smile split his lips to show his upper teeth. He hadn't even needed to use pheromones. The symbiote must have been as bored of Mac's monotonous habits as everyone else was.  
“I'm now looking forward to this greatly.”

Leaning back in, Daken took Venom's erection into his mouth again, the difference was this time, he was putting effort in. It didn't take long for the symbiote to become overwhelmed after that, Daken was also fairly sure that people didn't release that much when they came. He hacked as he almost choked on the volume, looking back up at the creature that had almost doubled in mass. Its shoulders were broader and as such its arms thicker, hands broader but almost hung past its knees.  _ You didn't really plan for this did you, let's be honest _ ? He was torn whether to withdraw his consent and call it there, but curiosity would always win out over his sense of self-preservation in this instance.  
Watching Venom with wide eyes, he was lifted and placed on his back on the bed. The man was tired of the mundane was he? The alien tilted its head, watching him with a dull almost purr reverberating in the back of its throat. Something it could do, that humans couldn't.. That was when the tendrils made an appearance, one wrapping itself around Daken's half aroused length. It was already slicked and shivers ran up his spine.  
Lester didn't want to admit to it, but he was pressed against the door, listening intently to what was going on inside. He also _ wasn't _ aroused by it. Not in the slightest. Not even when he heard the tell tale noise when something put their fingers in Daken. Didn't quite sound like normal though.

Daken was laid on his front, propped up on his knees as he was stretched. He was torn between panic and giving into just how good it felt. It wasn't because of how thick the tendrils were, it was because of the volume Venom had stretched him with. There had to be between four or six if he could even tell. Right now he was disgusting, his mouth hanging open as he panted, being relentlessly filled and fondled. He gripped at the sheets, bucking and whining. Why hadn't he approached this sooner though? As pathetic as he may have looked right now, he couldn't have even come this close to pleasure beforehand.  
“ _ We are surprisssed. _ ” It sounded pleasantly so. Daken may not have been able to turn around and see for himself, but he was sure the damn creature was grinning. He tried to reply, really he did, but he got the feeling the symbiote wasn't up for conversation as he set another inside him. This tendril didn't waste any time and went straight for his prostate. The grip around his erection tightened, flicking the tip. His thighs twitched, the muscles spasming under the hypersensitivity.  _ More. Faster. Please. More, please. _ They were beautifully slick, he didn't care, couldn't begin to bring himself to spare a thought as to what they were slick with.

Lester's chest pounded, his face flushed as he continued to eavsedrop. Now he knew why the freakshow was so eager to get one up on Mac. He wasn't even getting revenge for him, he was just going in there for a quick fuck. He wanted to kick the door in and beat seven shades of shit out of the little slut. He just didn't fancy his chances with a monster getting its rocks off. Daken threw himself to the wolves, he'd get him later. Lester growled and punched the wall, trying to talk himself up to leave. But god damn.. he almost wanted to see his face. Watch Daken's perfectly annoying face crack and twist as he lost himself. It was always so pleasing when he gave in. This would be one of those moments. No pretences, no nothing. This was a first time experience for him, nothing would be fake. He  _ had _ to see it for himself. 

Thankfully neither Daken nor the symbiote noticed Lester slip into the room. He was a ghost as far as they were concerned. The Symbiote eyed up Daken hungrily, it's tongue lashing. Sweat poured down Daken's back, the mutant trembling beneath its hulking mass. The tongue swept down his back, lapping up each bead. It growled lowly. When Mac was in control, their cock was average. Now it had like the rest of him almost doubled in size. Lester had to wonder if the monster was holding back for Daken's sake.   
The tendrils eased him open, as the tip pressed against his entrance.  
“That's- not going to fit--” Daken huffed, feeling the mass pressed against him. He tried to look over his shoulder, knowing that judging mass was harder when you weren't looking at it. He had to rely on his instincts here. “E-ease it.”  
The Symbiote gave a disgruntled little growl, but it seemed to understand the need. It was still larger than average, but not quite as daunting as it was before. It pressed the tip again and Daken gave a breathy nod. He was expecting the creature to force its way in, be rough like Lester was in the heat of the moment. It did something better. As it eased in, it began very slowly restoring itself to its previous size. It rocked gently, easing itself deeper all the while maintaining the tempo on Daken's erection. Whenever it felt the tell tale twitches of Daken hitting his limit, it tightened its grip and stopped. The mutant whined loudly, he tried to thrash but more tendrils held his arms and legs in place whilst large hands gripped his waist. Venom was buried the the hilt and Daken writhed, desperate the push himself back on the mass behind him. Lester was becoming very good at being quiet, watching with wide eyes. He couldn't help himself. He palmed himself through his jeans. This was like nothing he'd ever seen and probably wouldn't again. What he wouldn't give to put Daken's mouth to use. See the tears stream down his face as he sucked him whilst Venom fucked him ragged from behind. He exhaled as quiet as he could manage, not like it mattered the amount of noise those two were making. It'd be any wonder if someone made a noise complaint and broke up the party. He laughed to himself, the mental image of Daken being caught in the act. He almost wanted to be the one to play whistle blower. Get his own back.. still they were giving him a hell of a show.

Once Venom was sure Daken had adjusted to the mass, it started moving, languidly rolling its hips. Daken was sure this was really what it felt like to be split in two, but the pressure was astounding. He knew how to relax himself, adjusting himself to Venom's rhythm. He knew he couldn't hold out for too long like this. Despite how rough he thought the creature would be, he was being handled with a certain level of delicacy. He was the toy this time around, and brutal as the Symbiote could be, it clearly knew how to take care of something it wanted. Let alone there being only very few in the nearby vicinity that could take him like this.  
The creature leant over him, big enough to be able to catch his mouth. He was surprised that he even had lips like this. He winced as the tongue forced itself into his mouth. It was probably taking too much from those gross pornos Mac spent his free time watching. Daken gave the tongue a light nip and it was instantly removed. He shook his head, taking command of the situation. Perhaps he'd teach Mac something in the process too. No point corrupting this poor creature any further with myths.  
Daken lifted his wrist to his mouth, lapping the tip of the tendril and taking it into his mouth. He kissed it and gave a pointed look to the creature who seemed to catch his drift when another tendril was offered to his mouth. Lester huffed, unable to be content with just palming himself through his jeans. Fucker had to know he was there, how could he not? Making this a massive fucking show. He was doing this on purpose. Lester sank into a chair and freed himself from his jeans and boxers. He spat into his palm and rubbed himself. His shoulders sagged, working himself to the rhythm of the bed creaking.  _ Just let me at that mouth _ ...

The mutant moaned around the tendril, something to focus on other than the rhythm Venom was setting. He knew he was close, and gods he wanted it. He huffed, using his now freed hand to work his erection. The pulsating of the coiled tendrils were good, but it wasn't enough. Venom growled once more, picking up the pace. Each thrust ripped a stifled cry from Daken, he could barely hold himself up any longer. He could swear that the creature had put the tendrils back inside him, coiled around his own cock buried in him, the others seeking out his prostate, keeping him stretched. He surrendered himself, doing all he could to maintain enough concentration to drop pheromones. _Arousal, lust, desire, passion_. Anything to keep the creature going. Even as he was forced over the edge Venom kept going. He tensed, writhed, thrashed, cried and mentally pleaded for it to not end.   
Lester came messily, despite his best efforts to leave no trace of his presence. His hand could contain so much of his seed, leaving spatters on the arm and cushion of the chair. Maybe this hadn't been such a waste after all. Even after cumming, he carried on pumping himself, Venom wasn't done with this show and he wanted to see it. The mutant looked filled to capacity enough as it was.  
The Symbiote kept thrusting, losing itself as its pace grew more frantic and less controlled, the tendril slipped from Daken's mouth, no longer acting as a muffle for his cries and gasps. Its grip tightened and leant back on its haunches, giving a terrible noise as it finally came, still pounding into its bed partner. The noise had too many layers to discern exactly what it was, but all its team mates could focus on was Daken's swollen stomach. All Lester could do was look between it and Daken's face. He knew whenever Daken hit his high he just focused on the pleasure and how he could get more. Maybe Venom had done what no one else could do and broke him. Might shut him up for a while and keep him off his dick for more than a day or two.  
Daken however was entirely unable to focus on anything. All he knew was how good he felt, how much more he needed and wanted, this couldn't end and he'd keep going until he passed out. He needed more. He needed to have this more often. Lester had seen more than enough. He tucked himself back into his jeans and swiftly made an exit, his face burning with arousal, embarrassment and disbelief at what he'd bared witness to. The others however kept going.

 

Lester didn't see Daken until much later that evening. He looked dazed, almost high.  
“So much for getting revenge for me.” He huffed, watching Daken slump down next to him on the sofa. He was wearing an oversized jumper and what he could gather were probably sweat pants.  
“No.. that's definitely revenge..” He purred, sinking deeper into the sofa, leaning on his forearm. “Do you really think they're going to find anyone else who could handle that sort of treatment? They've been _spoilt_. And they'll only get it when I say so.”  
“Yeah, somehow don't get the feeling they're the only ones who've been spoilt. Did princess enjoy being fuck-toy for a day?” He sneered, looking him over. He'd definitely showered, his hair was still damp and smelt of that expensive shampoo and conditioner he insisted on using.  
“There is nothing you can say to me that's going to kill this buzz for a long time~” He had the nerve to purr at him.  
“Maybe I should just leave you to him from now on.”  
“I should also say I will not be doing that for a long time.” Daken twisted on the sofa to look at Lester. He nuzzled his cheek on his forearm. It was like he was on catnip. “I had to soak myself in the tub for an hour until everything had settled. I'm lucky he didn't burst me open.”  
“You're fucking sick.”  
“You told me to.”  
“You're the one who enjoyed it.”  
“I'm fairly sure you did too.” Daken quirked a brow and glanced Lester up and down. The musk of the room was still thick on him. “You know, next time, you should just ask rather than inviting yourself in. Someone might get the impression that you're a _perv_.”  
Lester gave a small growl and half heartedly thought about pushing Daken off the sofa, just to see him smash his skull on the glass table. Instead he just went back to his book, elbowing the mutant in the back of the head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'I wanna Just Dance  
> But he took me home instead  
> Uh oh! There was a monster in my bed  
> We french kissed on a subway train  
> He tore my clothes right off
> 
> He ate my heart then he ate my brain'  
> Monster By Lady Gaga


	10. What, Me Worry?/All My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lester is finally introduced to Laura outside of the battlefield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'What me worry? I never do  
> I'm always amused and amusing you  
> Sans le fear of impending doom  
> Life is like banquet food: pleasure to peruse
> 
> Do I amuse you, dear? Would you think me queer  
> if while standing beside you I opted instead to disappear? Disappear'  
> What, Me Worry? - St. Vincent

Why was he nervous, really? It wasn't as though it was a secret about how awful the man could be. He was putting on cuff-links, it was only his sort of sister coming over, upon his invitation no less. His brow scrunched, examining just how badly he'd managed to put the cuffs together of his shirt.  _ Why are you nervous? _ Daken huffed and almost slammed the cuff-links back into the glass dish. Why was he even trying to present himself in such a way? Laura didn't care and she'd also expect something was wrong. He wasn't some suburban housewife presenting their house to the family under the false pretences of enjoying their company. He didn't care. Or rather he wasn't supposed to. Was this what he'd come to? This was supposed to make this easier on him, trying the honesty thing on for once. Laura was the perfect tester, no expectations or excessive judgement. They were equal in many ways and he respected her for that. Bullseye and X-23 hadn't really clashed, the most Lester knew of her was what Daken had said, that Murdock was her lawyer once and what tended to travel the underworld grapevine.  
_ Look, I'm doing well for myself. I'm not the mess I was in Madripor- _

Daken growled once more, rolling his sleeves up past his elbows, the waistcoat was shoved back into the wardrobe haphazardly.

“I can hear you moving about and huffing princess, should I get jealous?”  
“Funny.”  
“What's crawled up your ass? Worried I'm going to ruin your visage of functionality?”  
The mutant's brows dipped, he hadn't even really planned what they were going to do when Laura actually arrived. He didn't know what to do. Family reunions weren't in Romulus' training 101. Family was useless. Only he mattered. All he could remember was to dote on the wretched monster hand and foot if they were spending the evening in. _Pour the wine, boy. Get me... Such a good boy-_ It felt like he was suffocating. Making a good impression, living up to expectations, he was better than that. So why try so hard? He thought about his next few words, worrying at his lower lip.  
“I'm not entirely sure what to do.”  
“Then don't do anything.” Lester shrugged, glass of water in hand, leaning so casually on the counter. _How? How? How is the idea of this happening not eating away at you? This matters to me, why doesn't it matter to you? I hate you so much. I should break that glass over your smug head._  
“I know that.” Daken shook his head, trying to silence the cacophony of anxiety. “But it feels wrong.”  
“So you wanna treat this with some reverence.” Lester blinked, giving him that look like he was sizing him up. _How are you calm?_ “I'd say tell her everything, but that means being honest. You can't speak your mind for shit.”  
 _Being lead once more. From one domineering owner to another. This isn't romance this is co-dependency, he's your pillar and he knows it. Such cruelty. Dangling freedom in front of you._  
“So I should tell her about all the times we have to change the sheets because they get so blood-soaked?”  
“We both would delight in killing one another, but we also both know that we're weirdly drawn together. No, it's not normal. But she's gonna have to just deal with it. Besides, normal would mean we would protest for the right to get married and adopt some kids. Don't know about you but I'm gonna pass.”  
It didn't help and Lester knew it. Daken clenched his fists and relaxed them. He was testing him, poking him to see what he'd do. History and previous experience meant either destruction or shutting down. Burning the bridge to Laura didn't feel as though it was a viable option. He'd used her as a pawn once, but she'd seen straight through him. At 17 she'd had him worked out better than Logan ever could have. Her gaze combined with those words had burned him worse than the explosion that day. He couldn't keep Madripor, not after that. It wasn't right. He was just copying him again. But how to carve his own way?

The door knocked and Daken's stomach bottomed out. He must have gone poker straight and pale, because Lester simply walked past and opened the door for him. 

“Bullseye.” Laura said flatly. There was no animosity or eagerness to see him. It was an observation. Cold and clinical. Ready to dissect everything. _This was a bad idea. You shouldn't have done this. This wasn't-_ “Daken.”  
He finally exhaled. The tone wasn't the same. It was softer, but unless you knew the difference you wouldn't have heard it. His mouth wasn't quite so dry, throat not as hoarse as it had been all morning.   
“Laura, I was wondering when you'd arrive. At least you're punctual.” _If you'd arrive._ The visage was shaky at best, it felt jaunty and unnatural. Was this what people did? _You're over-analysing it idiot._ “How have you been?”  
“I am well.” She nodded, eyes flitting from one thing to the next in the condo, still not looking at him yet. “What about yourself?”  
Daken paused, looking down at her. She'd barely grown, just a bit taller than Logan was. She didn't look so thin and fragile as she had done. She was filling out. She was _happy_. She'd found a form of peace. _Look, come see my happiness, isn't it as wonderful as yours?_ He tried to smile, and whilst he felt the muscles in his face move, it didn't translate as enthusiastically as he had thought it did.  
“I think so.”   
“Why are you so nervous?”  
“I didn't ever see myself playing host to family.”  
“I'm not expecting flowers and a thanksgiving dinner. I came because I wanted to see you.. and I was curious.”  
“... Yeah.” Daken rubbed the nape of his neck. “-Do you need a drink?”  
“Do you?” Laura's eyebrow rose, giving him a once over.  
“Yeah.” Somehow drinking an entire bottle of wine didn't seem as appealing as it had earlier in the day. Juice was a better choice perhaps. Part of him was still wishing for something to take him away from the situation. Leave the two of them alone and let them talk, keep him out of the way of their interactions. _It's only awkward because you're making it awkward._  
“So, what's Wolverine's clone doing with herself these days?” Daken winced as Lester finally spoke up. He was provoking her like he did with him. Testing the waters. _Please, not today_.  
“I go where I'm needed. What's Daredevil's stalker doing with himself these days?” There was a trace of a smirk in her tone. Give as good as you got. The tension was tangible and Daken began wondering if really this was the greatest idea he'd ever had, and then Lester barked with short sharp laughs. He slapped her on the shoulder and settled on a bar stool.  
“Hah. Yeah now I'm seeing the resemblance.” He rubbed his nose. “Going where the money is, kid.”  
“So Daken's your sugar daddy?” The brow was settled. This sort of fixed expression of amusement. She was astounded. So was he, to be fair. He didn't know quite when he'd found himself also sat at the kitchenette's island counter but it had happened. Their banter was infectious. The more she spoke with Lester, the more he saw parts of himself and Logan within her, and yet here she was, independent from the both of them. Functioning. This was connecting with someone, no expectations. Perhaps they were a little abrasive together, but that was how Howletts seemed to mix with Bullseye. Even Wade had a rocky relationship with him and Lester considered him a good friend.  
“He likes to think he is, but we both know he's my Daisy Buchanan.”  
“Are you sure he won't just end up as Myrtle?” Daken could barely help himself glancing back and forth at them. She wore a serious expression. Was she challenging him through a metaphorical conversation, comparing them to the situation of characters in classical literature? He felt his pulse quicken. She was concerned about him, even though he was capable of taking care of himself.   
“Nah, he can't be, he keeps getting up no matter what I throw at him.” Lester grinned. “Think I'm stuck with him for a while.”  
“Throw too much at him and you may find yourself under a tyre.” Her tone was flat once more. A warning. One Lester laughed off once more. Her expression didn't falter, staring at him intently. Her shoulders were squared. A challenge and a threat she would make good on. She was threatening him on his behalf? Did she believe he was taking advantage of him? What had Logan been filling her head with?  
“Cute, sweetheart, but you wouldn't be able to kill me. Maybe when I'm old and a cripple.” Lester reclined somewhat, raising his glass at her. Indirect. He wasn't making it a fight. “But you're both going to live longer than me, so what does a few good years matter?”  
“Thrilling as watching you two bicker over me is, I've got things to do.” Daken drawled, getting up to open the fridge. He couldn't watch this pathetic display. Poorly constructed masks and contrived intentions. It was painful to watch.  
“Watch us bicker? You cleared your damn schedule for this.”   
“I apologise. I just wanted to make a point clear to Lester.”  
“Bullseye.”  
“Lester.” She corrected him. “Perhaps, we should go out?”  
“'M driving, then. Where to? Not taking you two to an ice-cream parlour or this place will stink for the next twenty four hours, and I don't even need your freakish noses to tell how bad it is.”  
“No, I want to spend time with you.” Her eyes were locked on him.  
“You don't trust me?”  
“No.”  
“Did no one ever teach you about letting someone down gently?”  
“People will respect the truth more than consideration for their feelings in the long run.”  
“Are you sure you're not a robot?”  
“Am I making you uncomfortable, Lester?” Laura's eyes narrowed.  
“Takes more than an obnoxious kid to get under my skin.” Lester got up, torn between shooting the girl with arrows and carrying on this vicious game they were playing. He placed a kiss on Daken's neck before fishing his car keys out of his pocket. “Why don't you put your feet up princess? We'll bring dinner home.”  
Daken pinched he bridge of his nose. This had been an awful idea. This was like watching a train wreck. Trying to work each other out in such an awful manner. Both bristling and trying to assert themselves over the other. Fighting over the right to him.. No, Laura was fighting for him.“There'd better be no body bags when you're back or your princess will be in another castle.”  
“I shall be gentle.” Laura stood by the front door, sizing up Lester. She'd already worked out all the ways that she could kill him. Creatures like them couldn't help but do it. He'd seen Lester do the exact same thing when she'd walked in the door. Lester snorted, that cruel smirk of his he got when he was intrigued. He enjoyed this in a masochistic sort of way.

 

“So, let me work out your angle kid.” Lester uttered, slotting the key into the ignition, “Even after he's used you, you're still here making sure he's alright. You sure you're not some masochist?”  
“You are the one living with him it seems.” Laura was buckled in, her arms folded just over her stomach. “Perhaps you know more about masochism than I do?”  
“He's not so complicated.”  
“I know.”  
“What're you so worried about then?”  
“He invited me over. I believe he is looking for some sort of validation or approval.”  
“Yeah, no shit.” Lester snorted, looking over his shoulder as he reversed. “He holds you in high regard. For him that means something, fickle bitch he can be.”  
“You realise how much this means to him.”  
“You don't wanna know how much blood sweat and tears it took to get him to this point. Someone messed him up good.”  
“Romulus.”  
“I keep hearing that name but he doesn't talk much about it.”  
Laura shook his head. “Logan told me about him and his plans. The things that he did. But it is not my place to say. Daken should be the one to tell you this, rather than cornering me in a car for information under the guise of getting dinner.”  
“Kid, we're still getting dinner. There's a lot neither of us talk about. Doesn't mean we don't get it.” He pulled out of the cul de sac and made his way to the highway. “Like you and him. You're not in constant contact, but you know where you've been. You know your similarities and as much as he doesn't understand it, he sympathises like you do. Just cause I'm not part of the 'good guy' brigade doesn't mean I'm an idiot. I know the signs of ptsd, anxiety and depression. He hasn't been the same since he came back from his old man drowning him.” Lester shifted gears and tapped his temple. “Musta knocked something loose from here, cause he's getting things he didn't before. Don't know if it was an epiphany or that kind of bullshit, but he's more self-aware. Knows his limits better. Maybe I'm talking outta my ass, and he just got his dose of humble pie finally, but he's different. And you see it too, otherwise you wouldn't be so hopeful about getting through to him.”  
Laura shifted, mouth set into a firm frown. She may not have liked how dismissive Lester was being, but he saw Daken on a day to day basis. He knew him better than her at this point.   
“People like us, our goal isn't to be like you or your dad. We want stability. You might not like how I talk to him, but the little shit gives as good as he gets. He's not some downtrodden beaten wife. He's still finding himself. You've done it your way, so let him do it his way. You understand?”  
“And what if the two of you are bad for one another?”  
“Be there to pick up the pieces.” Lester flipped off another driver who cut him off. “We don't know what we're doing, but it works for us. May not in a month, may not in a couple of years, but it does now. He's not out there causing trouble for you and 'daddy dearest' as he affectionately calls him, and I'm doing better than I have in a long time. You may be looking out for your own, but so am I. I've been there longer than you have and you better believe the only thing that'd hold me back from carving you up if you push me is him. So, this little scouting you've done for Logan, you can let him know he's in good hands. I'm not Romulus and neither is he. If he's so damn worried he can come kick our door down himself.”  
“Daken invited me-”  
“Did you tell Logan about it?”  
“He knows I'm meeting Daken, not about you living with him.”   
“He's building bridges. Be happy with that. That's progress.” Lester huffed, putting his indicator on as he pulled into the car park of a restaurant chain. “You going to report back to him?”  
“I only tell him if Daken is doing well, not gossip about his life. That is up to them.”  
“Good. Sorry for assuming, but I know how people like to interfere.”  
“Only if Daken asked me to.”  
“You and I are gonna get on just fine.” Lester parked and hopped out the car, “You going to come in or am I ordering for you?”  
“I'll come with you.”

 

Daken held his phone above him. He stared at the screen, watching the digital clock count the seconds and minutes that passed. He was stretched out on the sofa, appearing apprehensive and utterly disinterested all at once. They'd been gone for forty minutes and seventeen seconds, no phone calls, nothing on the tv about a gross slaughter. Things couldn't be that bad. And yet the pissing match was to aggravate. Overly simplified to see what Laura would do. He wouldn't be pulled apart by their bickering however.  
“ _ On our way home. Hope you like Katsu curry.'” _ Daken glanced over the message and closed his eyes, finally setting down the phone on his chest.   
Perhaps things weren't as bad as he thought they were going to be. If they did fight then what would it matter? Laura was mature enough to not drop contact, and Lester let him have his other relationships. _This won't slip through my fingers. These foundations aren't made of sand.  
'Doubt it'll be better than mine. See you soon.'_

The three of them spent the rest of the evening sat on the porch, watching the sun set. Somehow despite everything they managed to find things to talk about. Lester was enjoying having someone else to recount his stories to. As gruesome as some were, Laura still listened. It was something he took pride in and the man somehow made Daken happy. But amongst the gore and self-proclaimed glory, whenever he spoke of how Daken and himself worked perfectly together he lit up, nudging the mutant and reminding him, encouraging him to reminisce with him. It worked. They were beautifully awful.  
“He asked me to keep an eye on you. I planned to regardless of whether he wanted me to or not. But.. I believe that somewhere in there, Lester's being genuine.”  
“What are you going to say to him?” Daken lazily looked her over, Lester dozing on his knuckles next to him.  
“He doesn't need to keep worrying about you like he does.”   
Daken snorted, absently leaning on Lester's shoulder. Even after everything he still worried? Contradictory asshole.  
“Maybe I'll call.”  
“He's not expecting you to.”  
“I know. One step at a time.”  
“Lester said you're building bridges.”  
“I'm not sure what I'm doing at the moment.”  
“He said that too.”  
“Smarter than he looks isn't he?” He said it with almost a level of pride. _Come see my dangerous lover, isn't he the best?_  
“I didn't expect him to enjoy classic literature.”  
“Neither did I. It was a fun night when I found out. I'll spare you the details, though.”  
“After Lester's stories I think I've heard more than enough.”  
“How are you getting home?”  
“Taxi.”  
“I can drop you off. Might be fun to rattle the proverbial cage.”  
“One step at a time.” Laura almost laughed, grabbing her jacket. “I'll see you soon?”  
“Oh, if you must. I'm sure I can arrange something.”

Laura smiled and nodded, stepping off the porch and towards the main road. She waved over her shoulder and began the trek into the city. Daken closed his eyes and slipped lower down the bench, grabbing a hold of Lester's arm.   
“Did you enjoy yourself?”  
Lester grunted and shifted slightly, pulling the other closer to him. “Won't knock it. Was it as bad as you thought it'd be?”  
“Not in the slightest.”  
“Told you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "All my life  
> I'm always dreaming about you  
> And you should know  
> That you're all my life  
> And I'll never leave without you  
> I'll never run away
> 
> I'm still shaking off the memories of the heartbreak  
> I'm ready for a holiday  
> We can fall into the night  
> And dancing to the morning  
> Just wait be there on my way  
> Wait right there I'm on my way"  
> All My Life - Gigamesh


	11. Take Me To Church

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daken reflects on when things started to change between him and Lester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'My church offers no absolutes  
> He tells me, "Worship in the bedroom."  
> The only heaven I'll be sent to  
> Is when I'm alone with you'

He wasn't sure when he started looking at him differently. Not long ago, he was sure Lester only felt seething anger and frustration when he looked his way, the smug smirk he'd greet him with couldn't have helped. The transition was so gradual Daken almost missed it, the biggest tip off was when the red hot embarrassment he clearly felt stopped showing. Was it his own acceptance? He didn't kiss or fuck him the same either. At first their encounters were just a rushed hot mess. A quick release, panicked rutting, get it over and done with as fast as possible. Now when they fucked, Lester's thrusts were careful and with purpose, always hitting the same spot with his deadly accuracy. He must have started doing it when he saw just what he looked like when he really came undone.

It had started like every other time Daken approached Lester for a quick tryst. He'd purr in his ear, fingers soothing at his shoulders, promising sweet nothings. The look Lester gave should have tipped him off from the get go. The smile that spread across his features was something akin to predatory hunger, but he was _pleased_ about it. He only answered with a low hum of confirmation.   
Daken kissed him fervently, and yet Lester was keeping his cool. He must have worked out his methods, spend the day teasing himself before he approached for his release. It was infuriating. Foreplay had never been Lester's strong point beforehand it seemed, he could only go for something quick, heady and rough. Daken growled, cupping Lester's face, demanding silently that he kiss him harder, his heart pumping so loud it was deafening him to almost all else. The man stayed strong and kept his pace, accepting the mutant trying to devour his mouth with short sharp pecks.  
Lester teased him, thinking he had the upper hand, Daken clenched his fists snarling. He hated it when Lester got like this. Of course he was the one in control, he'd always had the man on a tight leash, so just what the hell had changed?  
"Where's the apocalypse?" Lester laughed, pulling back. But Daken wasn't done, wouldn't accept it was time to stop. He gave Lester a shove, sending him back onto his bed. He straddled his lap, leaning down and trying to devour him once more, but Lester had other ideas.

The two rolled on the bed, Lester pinning him under his mass, holding his arms above his head. Working out Daken had taken years. Watching everything he did meticulously. It had been hard, but every once in a while there were small tells. His facade slipped and Daken's true nature shone through, but only for those looking for it. His idea of control was from someone who had never controlled anything in his life, but had by comparison _been_ controlled. He was still childlike in many ways, a true Dorian Grey: bored of everything, always seeking a new high. Oh, he'd give him one alright.  
"Lester, I know I may have longer than you, but this is getting tedious." He growled, writhing under him. His bark was greater than his bite in this instance.  
Lester pressed their lips together, shifting to reach something from his bedside table. Leather restraints. Daken regarded them with a sense of bemusement as Lester secured his wrists to the headboard.  
"And just what do you want to do to me?" He cocked his head. Lester knew that look, he was trying to gauge him, work him out. Didn't he ever get tired playing so many mind games? Wasn't spending so much time on the defensive exhausting? He'd get that stick out of his ass.

Lester said nothing in response, slowly stripping him where he could until the mutant was only left wearing his opened dress shirt. He regarded him, taking him in like the finely crafted piece of art he was. Identifying the cracks, the weaknesses, how could he improve him? What could he build upon this? Did he even have that much skill? Yes he was skilled himself in crafting fine art with his knowledge of pain, but the pain this Romulus had used was a long and ardourous task. He wouldn't live nearly long enough to use the same techniques, not that he wanted to. He needed something else added to the mix. Abrasive, lonely, defensive, intuitive, highly intelligent, unfeeling.. no, he felt intensely, he'd seen when Daken had lost his temper, that day he came back after Logan had taken his claws and Romulus from him. He'd been on a self-destructive downward spiral from that point, disgustingly beautiful and captivating to the point he'd been tempted to join him. What could he play to? His addictive and greedy nature? That he could do. Always wanting more, nothing ever seemed to be enough, craving everything stimulating and more. He'd spent so long trying to get Lester addicted to him it was time to return the favour.

His hands ghosted along his form, casually teasing as he went. Lightly raking nails and watching a trail of goosebumps follow his movements. How often had Daken really let himself lose control when they were together? It seemed to be working, the mutant rolled his body, arched his back, desperate for him to keep it up. Tempting as it was to pin him on his front and use him like a fuck toy, it was starting to lose it's appeal. It was too easy. Too unfulfilling. He wanted to see him come undone, watch him panting helpless to the pleasure like he'd done to him so many nights. Fair was fair after all. Each time Daken complained he was going too slow, he ignored him. He bit at Daken's iliac and felt him jolt. Palms ghosted between his thighs, always careful to avoid his erection, thumb nails just about grazing his perinium. Another jolt. His thighs twitched, stifling a huff. Lester cocked a smirk.

He maintained Daken's arousal, always skimming the edge of the intent to get him off but never pushing him to the edge. It was delicious, at first he fought with his restraints, tried to hook his legs over Lester's shoulder to pull him closer, force his mouth on his dick. It worked, but not quite. He was rewarded with the flat of Lester's tongue trailling along a vein on his erection, flicking over the tip, back down and sucking on his sac, then nothing. He whined, leaning his head back, toes curling. How far could he push him before he broke free? Surely he couldn't really be contained by the cuffs? Or was he conditioned so heavily that he didn't think he could? But he knew this was a thin line he walked, he had to keep him on the edge, keep him entertained.  
Lester laid more bites up the inside of his thighs, getting closer and closer to his crotch. Another pointed lick at his arousal and Daken sighed letting his eyelids close. Was he that concerned about being left hanging? His tongue found its way further down his arousal, skating back and forth over his perineum and the jolting in Daken's thighs started once more. He could hear his breathing growing heavier and heavier. He had him exactly where he wanted him. Taking heart, Lester's tongue ventured further down, albeit a first for him, but Daken had done it enough times to him to know just how good it felt. He gave an experimental flick of his tongue over his entrance, grabbing his hips to hold him still. He felt Daken's thighs rest over his shoulders, increasingly aware of just how much he was squirming. Whenever he felt Daken was getting just that little too close, he'd pull back, deliberately turning his attention away from eating him out. A nip to his inner thigh, digging his nails into his ass; just a little something to ground him. His tongue coiled, pushing in only to retreat and thrust back in, part and coat his walls with his saliva. He was soaking the sheets under Daken's crotch, the wet patch growing between them, but he seemed to caught up in trying to impale himself on Lester's tongue to care just how wet he was.

The mutant was all but begging Lester to fuck him, erection flushed dark and leaking. His voice was taut, harsh and breathy. How long had he been tormenting him? The room had been bathed in dull orange light when they'd started and now all the light they had was the neon city lights poking through the blinds, just enough of a glow to reflect on the beads of sweat sticking to his skin. They glistened so beautifully. To see him so high strung like this, almost at the point of weeping...  
Lester barely needed to touch himself to be fully erect when he freed himself from the confines of his slacks and boxers. He reached to his drawer and liberally coated his length with lube, any excess he smeared on and in Daken's teased hole. Lester entered him slowly, deliberately, watching Daken thrash more, hitching his legs over his partner's hips and holding him close. He needed no invitation to start rutting on him, panting and huffing with each motion. The restraints strained and even with Daken's healing factor he could see the redness was near constant. He was desperate for closeness. Perhaps he should take pity, prove that he could be more merciful than the beast that moulded him into such a beautiful disaster?

He gave a tug and unbuckled them one by one, barely fast enough to brace himself for Daken's hands to grip at him, nails almost gouging the skin between his shoulder blades off. How often had this ever occurred? Or had he stumbled upon a conditioning in his attempt to make a point? What had Romulus really used him for? Did he have any intention to make him his heir or was he just something for his amusement? Had he claimed him accidentally in the process? Or had Daken ever been like this in his life? Perhaps this had gone on for too long, or should he push him further?  
Lester kept his grip on Daken's hips firm, holding him steady as he plunged deeper in him. The short sharp snaps of his hips slapping against Daken's ass combined with his whimpers, gasps and cries as he repeatedly hit his sweet spot was enough to make his blood boil. The way he gripped onto him, his thighs twitching with each shot of arousal, he was his anchoring, all that was keeping him rooted. His begging and pleading becoming harder to make out until he was just making broken noises, desperately trying to cover his mouth to stop the noises from escaping him, but to no avail. He didn't even need to reach between them to get him off, their bodies being pressed so close together giving enough friction to his weeping erection. Keeping a pristine pace was growing increasingly difficult, his own arousal getting the better of him, how could he say no to how tight he was clamping around him? How deliciously slick and hot it was between them.

The only heads up he had was a sob and the sudden clamping of muscles around him. Daken tensed underneath him and buried his face into the crook of Lester's shoulder, grasping tighter at him, hooking his ankles together to hold him inside him. Lester felt him shoot all over their stomachs, twitching with each little rock and rut, hypersensitivity taking over. He pushed himself over the edge, grinding and twisting as deep as he could get, coating his inner walls.

It was when the frantic breathing beneath him hadn't stopped and his shoulder felt wet from something other than sweat he looked down, half expecting him to have bitten his shoulder. Wearily the mutant was still holding onto him, trying to get his breath back, tears rolling down his face. His breath caught in his throat. Months ago, maybe not a year or two ago, he'd have mercilessly ribbed him about it. Called him a pussy, made sure everyone knew what had happened. Had he pushed him too much?  
"I'm fine." Daken just about managed to say. Maybe he'd accidentally started hyperventilating? Lester leant back, giving him room. He'd never noticed Daken ever holding onto him when they fucked before, most he'd do would be to try and grab his waist, encourage him to plough him harder and deeper. Lester didn't say anything as he removed himself, debating whether he should just go and never speak of it again. Daken pulled him back down onto the bed, rolling out of the wet patch, groaning as the cooler air hit him, making him grossly aware of just how damp the sheets actually were.  
The arm over Lester's waist held him in place, Daken nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder once more. No scathing remarks, no lewd remarks, and not a trace of resentment, even after what he'd witnessed.  
"So.."  
"You've set the bar."  
"What?"  
"If you can keep that up each week I might just consider keeping you around."

Silence never lasted.

Daken considered that that was probably the day he'd realised there was no going back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'No Masters or Kings  
> When the Ritual begins  
> There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin
> 
> In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene  
> Only then I am human  
> Only then I am clean  
> Ooh oh. Amen. Amen. Amen.'  
> Hozier - Take Me To Church


	12. Is This Happiness?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daken reflects upon Lester and his father. Unsaid conversations, notions and heavy realisations. Things aren't as they seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'I've been to Hollywood Hills taking violet pills  
> Writing all of my songs about my cheap thrills  
> You're a hard man to love and I'm  
> A hard woman to keep track of  
> You like to rage, don't do that  
> You want your way, you make me so mad  
> Got your gun, I've got my dad
> 
> Is this happiness?'

Was it even possible for colours to look wrong? Let alone the edges of surfaces or objects blurring just a little too much. It seemed he was flipping between lucidity and hallucinations, and yet nothing felt like it was wrong. This seemed to be completely normal and not at all out of the ordinary; just another day in the Avengers Tower. Daken strolled languidly through the corridors, glancing into each room as he went, part of him unnerved, but that aspect of his mind was perhaps under some influential lull. Something soothing and hushing it, cooing and telling him it was alright, not a thing to worry about. It should have been unnerving and deeply sinister, if he were rational he'd consider it the work of Heat, and yet despite knowing of it, it meant nothing yet. It was a fabrication, a glimmer, another hurdle for another time, place and person. It was unnecessary to think about it.

He was sat across the way from him, hand resting on his knuckles. Lester. That smug smirk. He never looked at him like this, not now at least, too comfortable, too eager to devour his lips and worship his body. And yet it was normal. Unquestionable. This was the reality.  
Lester's head rolled somewhat. Was he high? Had someone unleashed something in the tower? Had he unleashed his pheromones affecting everyone including himself? That was impossible. Did it matter? Not enough to stop him from shifting sofas to sit with his lover. Rest his head on his shoulder. Allow himself to be manhandled as though he were a porcelain doll. Their hands held tight, holding them in front of them and looking at the differences. Daken's were more like the hands of a piano player. Long fingers, delicate with impeccably manicured nails, lacquered in deep purple, long enough to glide down Lester's back and leave red lines, not enough to wound. He loved those nights. He loved those faces he'd make above him. He was worth it. He was worth everything. He wasn't a toy. He was his world. And Lester was his--

"I've got a dare for you, princess." He purred, lowering their clasped hands. Daken tucked his feet up on the sofa, curling up further against him.  
"What's that?" He spoke wordlessly, and yet Lester still heard him.  
"Danger fapping."  
"You want to watch me masturbate in a place or situation where I'm likely to get caught?" Daken laughed. It was ridiculous. An inane conversation that this time all those years ago he would have dismissed. Teased him. Told him he knew he was into it. "I knew you were into adrenaline but really-"He tried. But Lester remained uncaring to his remarks.  
"Something better. What about setting your pubes alight and seeing if you can come fast enough to put it out."  
It got stupider and stupider. Nonsense. Of course, no one could do that unless that had extreme kinks. If it weren't for his healing factor then it'd be impossible without copious amounts of foreplay. But he could make anything a kink. It was his adaptable and changeable nature. He had to comply with whatever fetish his master asked of him. He could do it and he could be so good for him-

Once he was done laughing, Daken opened his eyes. The tower was gone. The pungent city fumes were no longer in his nostrils. Come to think of it, he'd never really smelt it. It was a notion. Almost like a memory. But he couldn't worry about it. He was wandering through the snow. Crisp, whites, pale blues, greenery and wood showing through the patches of snow. His footprints behind him. In his arms wood. Firewood? He exhaled, watching his breath curl around him. Was it supposed to look like that? It was like an impression of ink. An animated print. Heat? That word again that meant nothing but seeking warmth. He remembered complaining to his father about how cold his cabin was. How Neanderthal it was. Logan just scoffed at him and told him to get the wood. Had nothing occurred between them? Was there no resentment? No trace of years and years of misdirection, misunderstandings and bitterness? He blinked and he was sat inside the cabin. Fleeting and vague. Everything was hard to remember, nothing had any relevance. He was looking at Logan sat across from him. A hideous mustard jumper with black across the shoulders, ending at the sleeves and coming down to the V in the cut of the neck. Ribbed fabric. Emphasised. He was clear and crisp. Words were caught in his throat, bitterness, venom and bile. But it wouldn't come. Again, a comfort beckoning him to accept the cocoa handed to him. It was thick and rich, not watery like instant stuff. He glanced to the kitchenette and saw Logan making them. Dumping almost half the tub of chocolate into Daken's mug, carefully mixing them up. He looked back to the sofa and it was as though Logan hadn't moved.  
They spoke for hours. About what he couldn't recall. Some inane topics, some conversations that were too painful for either to ever address and others about the way things could have been. Sentimental old fool. Was this what it was to grow older? Accumulate years of regrets?

"You'll outlive him. You know that." Logan spoke. Daken blinked and he was curled up, like he had been with Lester. But his cheek resting on his father's left thigh, his hand petting his hair. Why were his eyes wet? His sinuses were stuffed and he couldn't breathe properly. Sobbing? "Young and beautiful Dorian Grey finding the one he would hold above his own hedonism. He must be special."  
He was gruff, but still well spoken. That high-class sombre tone when serious conversations were to be discussed. He couldn't speak, words and a thickness blocked at the back of his throat. He gripped at Logan's scruffy jeans. Why did he have to be so blunt? So cruel? Why did he remind him?  
"Will you still remember him years from now? Will he still mean this much to you, or will this all just be gone in the blink of an eye? How will you honour his memory? Will he mean enough for that? Or will it be easier to pretend he was just a toy for your amusement?"  
Logan wouldn't speak to him like this. He looked up through his tears, Logan's hair was greying. Not quite Romulus, but if he be able to live that long would he resemble him? Would he be able to look at him without recalling all those years of servitude? He blinked and Logan's hair was a dark brown again. There was exhaustion behind his eyes. Had he been sleeping? Was he alright? How did he even get here?  
Logan hushed him, soothing his hair. This was pathetic. It was like he was looking at himself from across the room.  
"I love him." Came the broken croak of a response. Like this justified and excused everything. His affections would stop the inevitable passage of time, Lester would be the exception just for his sake. All would be forgiven. Was this the lamb's blood across the door for him? Would Death see them entwined together each night and say to herself: just a little longer. They need more time.  
"Then Dorian Grey needs to destroy the painting." Logan sighed.  
Daken looked up at him with tears in his eyes. He was in a wreckage site. The snow, cabin and cocoa gone, no where to be seen. Logan had a slash over his eye, howling as he strangled his son. Pressure tightening on his throat. His thumbs desperately trying to crush the wind pipe and snap his neck before the oxygen deprivation kicked in. But it wouldn't work. Their genetics wouldn't allow for such a merciful demise. He knew that now. The tears kept rolling down their faces. They were resigned to this. This was just the way it would always be. They weren't capable of anything else. He could hear people screaming around them. Saw the Apocalypse child out of the corner of his eye in a blur as he fell back into the puddle. And yet he could breathe. He knew he was supposed to be face down in the puddle, and yet he was looking up at Logan. The pain warping and distorting his features. He could claim he was killing a part of himself whilst he did this as much as he wanted to. He still did it. Talking things out wasn't an option-  
He was lifted, Logan held him close uttering under his breath harsh and ragged apologies. He gripped him tight, burying his face into the crook of Logan's neck.  
"Where were you?"

\---------  
  


His eyes opened this time. Daken sat bolt upright. His eyes stung. Dawn. The room was lit by dull orange hues, gently getting brighter and brighter. He tried to take a breath and realised his sinuses were clogged. He thought back on everything he'd envisioned, desperately trying to remember and take some meaning from it all. It was just a dream, but why did it's vagueness hurt so much? His chest was tight and looking at Lester fast asleep next to him felt like he was being crushed. He squinted, tracing the lines on his face. They weren't always there. They weren't there years ago. He'd been brought back by the Hand, why did he still look so tired and old? He could see the veins in his hands more than he could previously also. How they unsettled him. Their protrusions so uneven, the way the skin barely held them in. How easy he could just hold them and squeeze. He almost gagged. Was he hyperventilating? What would it be without him? It wasn't like they hadn't gone their separate ways a dozen times over. Coming and going from each others lives freely. Did Lester weep for him when he killed himself after Roston? When Logan drowned him like a mad dog that needed to be put out of his misery? Did he even shed a tear when he heard of Lester's suicide with that whore? When Matt crossed the line no one thought he ever would? He choked and wiped his face. It wouldn't stop. Who would put up with him? Who could he turn to? Who would understand all of his in jokes? Know his little tells, body language and little nuances so well? Once he would embraced the opportunity to find someone else to sate him, but this was more. And the thought of that made his skin crawl more than the signs of middle age on Lester. He wanted to wretch. Something was inside him that he needed to expel from his body. A nausea, a wretched notion. Was he cursed? No curses didn't exist. Only the will of those with power and influence.  
Once upon a time, if Lester woke up to this he would have been silent. He wouldn't have believed that Daken capable of feeling. He was just a monstrous being after all, not really alive, just existing as a tool, a machine. Only filled with purpose. No autonomy. Another time, he would have jeered. Mocked him for his weakness, tell him he knew he wasn't anything special. He was wretched just like the rest of them. Born sick and broken.  
This was something out of the drivel he watched with Karla. Intelligent woman, who had a penchant for romance films. A waif of a woman telling a man that they couldn't live without the man. A lover leaning over their beloved's hospital bed, holding their hands whilst they were hooked up to a machine; telling them they couldn't watch them die. Selfish, self-preservation. Where was his sense of it now? What had he become now? A wayward, wide eyed and scared animal.

Lester scooped him up into his arms, held him, waited for the shaking of his shoulders to stop. He didn't ask why. Never demanded an answer. After all, he'd seen Lester wake up sobbing from nightmares before. The medication he'd tell him when he was lucid. Memories and demons haunting him and everything he did. From time to time it would still happen. Broken, but repairing. Enough to let another's hands guide them. Disgusting, pathetic nauseating, trivial, impermanent, momentary, fleeting, fading happiness. That's all this was. And yet still he stayed. Invited. Kept demanding he return after the day's work was done. It was a socially acceptable form of co-dependence. It was crippling. Yet empowering. He'd never felt this good about himself. He'd never been so comfortable in his own skin. Content to just take it day by day and not plan ahead.  
_Don't go._

“What have you done to me?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'I've been to Hollywood Hills crushing violet pills  
> You've been trying to write a novel about your cheap thrills  
> You think you're Hunter S. Thompson  
> I think you're fucking crazy as the day's long  
> Man to man, heart to heart  
> I love you but you drive me so far  
> Wish you well on that star
> 
> Is this happiness?'  
> Lana Del Rey - Is This Happiness?
> 
> Didn't quite mean for this one to turn out so damn sad. This was supposed to be a more light-hearted crackish chapter, but can't have it all. 


	13. Hardest of Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daken takes a trip out, Lester gets curious to see where he's headed to. Turns out he's meeting an old friend. Jealousy and choice words occur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "There is love in your body but you can't get it out  
> It gets stuck in your head, won't come out of your mouth  
> Sticks to your tongue and shows on your face  
> That the sweetest of words have the bitterest taste
> 
> Darling heart, I loved you from the start  
> But you'll never know what a fool I've been  
> Darling heart, I loved you from the start  
> But that's no excuse for the state I'm in"

Breaking the reluctant Howlett had been amusing, something cathartic, revenge. Daken was easily manipulated, not that he'd ever admit it, but he had a streak of co-dependency, not that Lester could really comment. Some days things were fine, others were messier than others, today was one of those on the fence days. 

Daken had entered the condo with shopping only to slip away not two minutes after putting it all away. There'd been no sarcastic quip, no commentary about Lester being an uncultured swine because of his feet up on the coffee table, normally he wouldn't care, normally he'd think it was a blessing. But Daken enjoyed being noticed. He had to be the centre of attention, everyone's eyes had to be on him. So why the avoidance?  
Lester set the book down and narrowed his eyes at the front door closing. He was faced with several options, and the saner, calmer part of his brain said to leave it be. But his paranoia wasn't to be quietened today. He chewed at his lower lip, tearing skin off worrying the sensitive flesh and like that he was following suit like a bloodhound.

Was Daken keeping an eye on his surroundings? Would he notice his car tailing him? Running further up the street, he hailed a cab, telling the man to follow the disgustingly gaudy car. The driver was unsure at first, but a fist full of money and the other laden with promises of pain soon silenced his doubts and they were in pursuit. His mind was racing, if it was a job no, Daken wouldn't speak about it, but he'd have said something, right? This was all too secretive even for the spoilt brat. Had he done this in the past and had he not even noticed? He felt like his brain was overheating scrabbling to remember if this wasn't the first time. But he couldn't trust his own memory, not often, he gritted his teeth as he cursed the prissy princess for doing this to him. Why did it even matter this much, each stop light he considered telling the cab to just take him home, but then a tiny sliver of doubt would whisper possibilities into his ear. More poison. Clearly infected by him. Unless this was a personal thing that Daken was dealing with, like either of them could talk about such things with ease. Lester was crass and belligerent, Daken hid it until he exploded, bitterness constantly seeping into visibility.  
_Your poker face sucks princess._

 

Daken pulled into a parking lot down town and Lester had to leave it there, trying to find a vantage point. Street level it was. Not that he could cover his scent, he'd have to hope Daken was too out of it to notice. What would be the worst that would happen if he did notice him? A confrontation? Not like he wasn't used to that. He could do messy and public. He shoved the fist full of money into the cab driver's hand and barrelled out of the car, following the obnoxious mohawk into the crowd. He could dodge between them easily, but Daken seemed to part them, the masses gave him space. Wasn't he normally the one moving around others? So much for subtlety, so it must have been important.  
And that's when he saw the blonde hair. He wasn't much taller than Daken, but he greeted him with an anxious and somewhat withdrawn smile. He knew exactly who it was. The way Daken casually draped his arm over his shoulder, waltzed alongside him like nothing was wrong. Lester had seen enough.

 

Daken didn't come home until the early hours of the morning. He didn't say a word when he got in, slipping under the covers like nothing had happened. He wasn't sure what he smelt on him, his brain instantly leapt to sex, because that's what Daken had been using Johnny for all this time wasn't it? How many others were there? Did this count as cheating? What had he started? Was he going to assume every relationship he had with someone that was close was sexual. Was he just doing it to punish him for his revenge for all those years of emotional and sexual manipulation? Lester rolled over, trying to make out what Daken's expression was, or did he hallucinate the entire thing? Was it really Johnny Storm he met up with or just someone who looked like him?  
“What is wrong with you?” Daken growled, the motion aggravating him. Lester had been tossing and turning for almost an hour, enough to keep him from getting settled.  
“How long?”  
“How long, what?”  
“How long have you been seeing him.”  
“Seeing who?” Daken paused, and leaning up on his forearm, narrowing his eyes at at the other. “I knew you'd followed me” His expression fell flat.   
“Are you fucking him?”  
“Not currently. Why do you want to watch, dear?”  
“Who else are you doing?”  
“Where did this come from? Oh, are you not taking your meds again?”  
“You're doing this to me.”  
His mind spun, or was that just the room? He felt sick to his stomach, unable to keep the images of Daken riding Johnny out of his head. He knew the faces he made, would he be theatrical all to soothe the nerves of the fragile white boy clinging to the notion of being straight? Was he any better? Daken's hand on his forearm was warm, but everything felt wrong. The sheets itched him, the crickets were too loud. He kicked the duvet off of himself and struggled to get his arm free. 

“You're lying. I know you are. You've always been fucking him.”  
“Not currently, disappearing, presumed dead after slipping your brother-in-law drugs tends to leave a bitter taste in people's mouths.” Daken replied flatly, trying to keep the covers on him, Lester may have been fine with the room temperature but he wasn't. “Do you _want_ me to fuck him? Would that validate your paranoia? I can't right now, unfortunately. But if you want to watch me fuck other people then tell me.”  
“Shut up!” Lester howled chest pounding. He tried the deep breathing techniques his therapist told him, not like they ever helped. No matter how much he told them, they got more frustrated with him, like he was doing it wrong. “Stop talking, just stop.”  
“No, if you're going to drill me about this, then perhaps I should ask about your inclinations to Mr. Murdock.”  
“Murdock can eat shit and die.” Lester growled, shooting a glare over his shoulder.  
“And yet you still get excited when you fight him. You get off on it more than you want to admit. Both of you do.” Daken bared his teeth. “Neither of us are monogamous, I wasn't even aware this was a committed relationship until you decided to play the wounded lover. Do I have to deal with a bunny boiler now?”  
“It's not my fault you can't keep it in your pants. You see someone and you just want to fuck them. Do you even get off on it? Or do you just like the feeling of false control?”  
Daken leant over the side of the bed, reaching for Lester's shoulder. His nails dug into the skin. A vice grip. This was a warning. Lester knew he was treading on thin ice, but it was just one of those nights. He felt vindicated, this was well within his rights, and the bitch deserved it.  
“We all have our dirty laundry, Lester, sweetness.” His tone was strained, forced. Venom and bile bubbling over the corners of his frowning lips. “I was meeting him to catch up and rebuild.”  
“So you could fuck him.”  
“So I can use their resources, Lester. If fucking him does come up..” He gave a non-committal shrug. “What about if you and Murdock end up in a compromising situation? Where would it go from there?”  
“I don't want to fuck Murdock! He's a self-righteous hypocrite. He micromanages a couple of blocks and he thinks he can judge everyone.” Lester hauled himself up, meeting Daken's gaze. It was a battle for domination again. Pushing each other's buttons, who could cause the most damage and win, who would come out on top? So why did Daken look so damn pleased. He had to step it up a notch.“What about you? I've heard you talking about people in your sleep.” His smirk split his lips into a toothy grin, watching Daken's eyes dart, looking him up and down, trying to tell if he was serious or not. “At first I was pissed off that you were thinking about someone else, but then I remembered you've always been a slut. But I didn't realise you were that twisted of a puppy. Who knew projection was something you fell into.”  
_Tell me, did you kill your daddy because he touched you, or because you liked it?_  
Daken's grip on Lester's shoulder tightened, hoisting him up towards the bed once more an audible growl as he pulled him up so he was straddling him.  
“No, by all means Lester darling, do please tell me what goes on up here. After all you must be becoming something of an expert, we've only been living under the same roof for nearly a year, and that's not including our time with Normy.”  
_Twist the knife, you've done worse to him before, it's never stopped you. It's only right. After everything he's done. Do it._  
“Is it just because Daddy doesn't love you? The only way you'll get him to notice you is if you get in his pants? Or is that the only way you know how to do it? Are you really that broken and pathetic?” Daken leant up and caught his lips, trying to silence him. The way his nails dug into him, scraping the skin almost drawing blood, Lester had struck onto a nerve, he bit his lip savagely, trying to break away from how forceful he was being. “Why else would anyone like you? All you can offer them is your body, but everyone knows you're damaged goods.”

“No more damaged than you.” Daken choked out, his lip knitting itself back together as he spoke. “Can't live without him. If you kill him, you have to kill yourself. But how easily he lives without you. You're just a thorn in his side, you'll never mean anything to him. So you have to keep pushing his buttons, anything to get him to keep paying you attention. Doesn't feel so good when the tides are turned does it? So I suppose we'll both have to settle with second best, won't we?”  
“If you didn't want to be here then you wouldn't.”  
“Still think I'm fucking Johnny?”  
“I still think you want to.”

“Like I still think you want to fuck Murdock, but we'll just have to live with it won't we?” Daken growled and tried to push Lester off him, hissing as his wrists were pinned above him.  
“Admitting it's the first step.”  
“And what do you get out of it? Satisfaction? A new target because you're jealous? You think I'm humiliated by it?”  
“It's not just his body you want, and you're so dense you can't even recognise it. It took me months of pushing you for you to realise what this was, are you really going to be so stupid about everything else?”  
“Are you sure you're not getting off on the idea of it? You seem to be awfully insistent.” Daken shifted his hips, brushing against Lester. “You want to watch me fucking him? Ménage-et-trois seems to be your scene after all, you did enjoy it with Venom. But I didn't expect you to have a thing for my father. So how would it work? Watching them use me whilst you got off on it? Or would you be selfish and want to join in? I suppose I could fuck Johnny instead, unless you wanted that-”  
“You're disgusting.”  
“You told me to embrace it, love. What about the Cajun? Mr. Grimm? I could arrange something, after all you've outed yourself as a voyeur. Maybe we should track Venom down once again, I'm sure that would be fun for his new host-”  
“You're fucking gross and you don't even feel bad about it, I get it.”  
“Well now you're clearly upset because this didn't work. Why don't you tell me what you really want to do to Matt, hmm? I'll even let you touch me.” A flush had crept into his skin, tongue flicking over his lips lewdly telling Lester all the things he could do with his mouth, that aching reminder going straight to his half hard cock. How did he do this? Why? Sex was a weapon and now an avoidance technique. Digging his heels in and refusing to talk about it by pretending to be open about it. He spoke about how he'd fuck the others but left out where Logan fell on the 'theoretical orgy'. Definitely something to hide away for later. Was he using his pheromones? He always knew the idea of killing Daredevil aroused him, but this was excessive, was Daken even aware of what he was doing. A hint of desperation in his eyes. He used to have such a good poker-face back in the day, had he lost it or was he not even trying to hide anything anymore with him? Was this his prize? “I doubt you want to hear me talk about my dirty little secret, but yours isn't so secret is it now, hmm? Come on, I know you want to.”  
So the sick puppy did know what shame was. Not that you'd be able to tell from the way he cried as he fucked him. The way he scrabbled to hold onto him, whimpering as he denied him orgasm after orgasm. He wanted to reduce him to a hot mess, watch him come undone, it'd been so invigorating to see him cry when he finally came that time. How many times had he done this? Poked and prodded at something until Daken gave up his pretences? But this was one that ran deep, perhaps linked to one that was the root of everything. The mysterious Romulus he'd only heard of in passing.  
Daken growled, forcibly flipping the two of them over and Lester swore as he struggled to stop himself falling off the side of the bed. He was straddled, Daken's back to him, he didn't want him looking at him right now. Too enthusiastic, should he really be complaining about it? Not like he'd let him get away that easily. Lester leant back up, wrapping an arm around Daken's middle, the other gently pulling his hair to tilt his head back so he could attempt to leave red marks on his neck and watch them fade the following moment. The feral stepped up his pace, head hanging as he desperately tried to reach his climax. He was sticky and somewhat sore from Lester getting his fill over and over again, his pheromones had kept him going otherwise he might have fallen asleep and left him unfulfilled – not that that would be the first time he'd been so selfish, nor did that in the past stop him from finishing himself off when Lester was sleeping.  
“You're gonna break my dick at this rate.” Lester huffed, trying to match Daken's erratic rhythm.  
“You deserve it.” Despite how strained his voice was, there was still bite to it.  
_So I did trample all over your fragile sensibilities. Good._  
He kept a grip on Daken's hips trying to guide him into a better angle, enveloping around him, it seemed to work. Daken gave a cry, scrambling to hold onto Lester's arms wrapped around his middle, trying to entice him deeper, to keep doing more and more.  
“W-want me to say his name when I cum? You seem so adamant about it-” Daken choked with laughter, nerves singing as Lester kept hitting his prostate.  
“Shut up.” Lester barked, lacing his fingers in Daken's hair, pulling his head back as he fucked him harder. He either got off on it, or was just good at pretending, breathing heavily and making small overemphasised whines. It was all a show.  
The mutant's thighs gave out being able to support him, doubling over himself, laid front first on the bed. Lester had to wonder where his mind went when he got like this. Not really completely there, drowning in the sensation, blanking out all else. Another coping mechanism, but more importantly how often did he do it? Daken trembled underneath him, twitching as he tightened and clamped down around him, gripping tightly at the sheets. An attempt at communicating was made, mostly broken words and phrases in a mixture of languages tumbled from his lips as he finally came, staying as stiff as a board.

They didn't say anything for a while. Lester removed himself, pulling Daken further up the bed, wiping him down with some tissues on the bedside table. He was a mess in more ways than one, but who was he to talk? The marksman heaved a sigh, guiding him into his arms. That glazed over look still in his eyes, breathing deeply, recovering from the ordeal. The further he pushed his boundaries, the more he discovered about him, but Daken was a secretive and private person so unless it benefited him in some way he wouldn't be showing him all this. What did he think he could gain? Sympathy? No he never wanted that, let alone understanding. Was it an act? Or had he just tapped into his conditioning?

“I was lying.” Lester finally said, rubbing the nape of his neck, fingers playing with the sleek black hair. Daken shifted his head, looking up at him, trying to process what he was saying. “You never said anyone's names like that in your sleep. You'd pissed me off and I wanted to push your buttons.”  
He watched his expression twist, coming back to his senses and working out whether it would be a good idea o jus let his claws pop and impale him there and then.  
“I know you were. You're not that smart.” Daken snorted. So he was playing it off, despite his venomous reaction, or was that all for show too? “I played you.”  
“...Course you did.”

He didn't believe him in the same way Daken probably didn't believe what he was saying, but he wouldn't say anything about it again; not if he didn't want to get in over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "My heart swells like a water at weight  
> Can't stop myself before it's too late  
> Hold on to your heart  
> 'Cause I'm coming to take you  
> Hold on to your heart  
> 'Cause I'm coming to break you"  
> Florence + The Machine - Hardest of Hearts
> 
> I blame Gealach for associating Florence with Daken now. 


	14. Howl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lester has to deal with the repercussions of their argument the night before. Daken finally makes some more poor life choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter I've been working up to writing but I've never really had the right inspiration. I feel it's part of Daken I've always wanted to tackle, so I hope I do it justice and handle it with respect.
> 
> "Now there's no holding back, I'm making to attack  
> My blood is singing with your voice, I want to pour it out  
> The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound  
> I hunt for you with bloody feet across the hallow'd ground
> 
> like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins  
> I want to find you tear out all your tenderness
> 
> And howl, howl  
> Howl, howl"

He laid awake, despite how exhausted he was he couldn't find it within himself to fall asleep. Lester wasn't a snorer, not usually, and yet his breathing sounded loud enough to wake to dead. The way his chest rose and fell, lifting his head along with it. His heart was an easy rhythm, a consistent beat that perhaps he could have made himself fall asleep to and yet it was just annoying. He sickened him to look at. He got played, forced to reveal his hand because he wanted to make a blind swing to hit something that hurt and got another bullseye. Of course he would. As easy as he was to manipulate he wasn't stupid in the slightest. Perhaps not well educated, but well-read, self-taught. It was half of why he found him so interesting to pursue at first; once upon a time he could handle him with a sleight of hand, an offhand comment. Their banter never crept under his skin. _Sticks and stones have made me smarter, but its words that cut me under my armour._ When did it get to the point that he would let himself be hurt by him. Did he trust him? Why in the hell did he make himself vulnerable to him. The man was as cruel as he was, but it seemed like a good idea.

He gently shifted, freeing himself from Lester's grip and swung his legs off the bed. After what had happened in the day he had a pang of dread of the conversation that would be waiting if he left again, but he reminded himself firmly that he didn't owe him anything. This.. whatever it was, Lester had been so adamant about taking it further, so he would have to put up with everything that came with him, as painful or as vile as he found it. Daken got up, pulled some clothes on and grabbed his phone. He scrolled through his contacts, not that he could fathom why. Was this what normal couples did after a spat? Called one of their friends in the middle of the night pathetically bare their soul to them. His upper lip curled, staring at his phone with distaste. All the names that came up were wrong. They weren't people he would even dream of talking to. But who was? He was always alone. Letting Lester this close was a heinous gamble, needy, desperate and hoping for something more. They were as broken as one another, although that was as much as people could see. If he knew the true extent how would he see him? Would he be able to even look at him without that disgusting softness rearing its head? He didn't want pity. He didn't want people to offer their sympathies and good intentions. He didn't know what he wanted. But Lester had unearthed something he'd spent years trying to bury and for a while he'd thought it had worked. No, he had to keep on digging, no matter how much he tried to distract him, and all for what?

He focused on his phone once more, aware that he'd been staring into deep space. His hand was trembling, a cold sweat pricking at his brow. Fifty years of living under another's thumb and he'd managed to do the exact same thing again. Was this what Laura meant when she was worried at first? Was this why everyone was so concerned about him? Was he that fragile thing that needed to be protected? His lip trembled, squeezing the phone. He wanted it to break, he wanted it to crumble, something to suffer at his hands, be stronger than something _anything_. People always had this notion of confronting what made you scared. He'd tried that years ago and it blew up in his face. Now he didn't have that chance. Should he leave it be, gently bury it once more, put it to bed? How had he even done it before? Distractions mostly. Pretending it wasn't there despite the fact it loomed over everything he did, still unable to flee from the shadow it cast. Was that what it was all about? Romulus no longer being around, so he'd focused on the next best thing? His 'true heir'.

He grabbed his jacket from the kitchen, clumsily putting a text together. He'd have to change the phones after sending this one, make sure he got it and dispose of it. _What good does it do to make sure he doesn't know where you are? What are you so afraid of? Why does the contact scare you so much? He's not him. He couldn't be if he tried._ The taunting message was sent. There was no going back. No way he wouldn't reply. Quickly he wrote down all the important numbers into a jotter pad and stuffed it back into the draw, fishing his keys from the dish on the counter top. He'd given Logan a place, told him to come and meet him and that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. That was putting it lightly. He had no intention of opening himself up to him. Nor of engaging in small talk with him. So what in the hell was he doing? Bull fighting because he wanted to prove something to himself? Fifty years of being stuck with the same person and their damaging behaviour, it always got hard this time of year. He told himself he didn't miss him, that it was all the conditioning he'd inflicted on him, to always seek out something similar to soothe the ache. Pretending he had independence when in reality he searched for someone to control him the way he had been all his life. He didn't know how to do anything else. Each time he tried it became a cycle of self-destruction, knowing it would never work. Did he ever want it to? Did he have the self-assurance to follow through. He'd taken Madripor but fickleness had made him give it up. For what? To say he could? Anyone could take the hill, but to be the King you had to have the strength and resolve to hold onto it. Would he really have been able to? Did he want to?  
In the car, the phone buzzed, Logan was trying to call him. Really the fool should have known by now he never took calls from him. Communication was always on his terms. _Don't give him an inch, he'll take a mile. How much else would he take if I gave it to him? Do I really want him to though? Is that what this is all about?_  
The shake had never left him, thankful to be driving at such a late hour there was minimal traffic. He'd debated taking him to a public place, where all could see and no quick moves could be made, but for his own sake he'd chosen somewhere private. The phone stopped ringing, a text came through not a moment later.  
**Pick up damnnit**

Daken snorted, glancing between the road and the phone. He was driving too fast he knew it, but everything felt simultaneously on fire and freezing within him. A rush of adrenaline and gut wrenching fear. Why was he making such a fool of himself?  
**Logan messaged me. What's going on? Did something happen with Lester?**  
Laura now, too? He grabbed the phone, chest pricking. What had she said? Had she told him anything? How dare she go back on her word.  
**It's none of your business. Don't get involved.  
** **Daken you haven't been in contact with him for years. Then you message him to meet just the two of you? He's suspicious he's walking into a trap.**  
 **I don't have that kind of energy. Just tell him to come and do it alone.**  
 **What is this about?**  
 **I told you, it's none of your business.**  
 **Will you tell me about it later? I'm worried about you.**  
Daken stared at the message, trying to steady his hands. Worried? No, she was worried for Logan. Or she was worried about having to deal with the fallout. No, she couldn't help this. She wouldn't understand. Not anymore. Not after all Remy had done for her. They were two different people now, he'd opened himself enough to her for now.  
**I will be fine. So will he.**

He turned his phone off and put his foot down, running a red light, turning the radio up louder. Anti-social at this time of night, but he needed something to drown out his own thoughts. Just focus on getting there, don't big it up and don't talk yourself out of this.

\---

The park was empty bar the odd drunk couple making their way back from the restaurants and clubs in the surrounding area. He waited in his car, radio still blaring, but with the windows up. He could barely hear the traffic over the booming of the drums. Wasn't this always how it went? Execute a plan bound to fail and let his father pick up the mess afterwards? He choked a laugh on the irony of the situation. Left his partner sleeping in bed, with no letter, no indication of where he'd gone, his phone switched off. This felt like so many of his send-offs, except this time he had someone waiting for him. People were trying to stop him. And for the love of gods why wouldn't he stop shaking?   
The tap at the window made him jolt sharply, staring at the stranger in the bike helmet with wide eyes. He was a mess. He searched the tinted glass for a semblance of something to recognise under it all, and he noticed he wasn't hunched much. Broad shouldered, dark leather biker jacket with orange stripes on it. He knew exactly who it was. His chest pounded. Why was he doing this? What good was going to come of this? Isolate himself further, push someone away because he felt too smothered? Slowly he rolled down the window, the music still blaring.  
_**'**_ **If only you could see the beast you've made of me  
** _**I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free** _ **  
** _**Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart**_ **'**   
“The hell's this about, Daken?” Logan paused, taking the helmet off, realising just how much he resembled a deer in car headlights. “...What's happened?”  
Daken tried to speak, he'd come all this way with nothing to say. Only a notion he needed to convey, that he wasn't even sure he wanted to. It was just an ache, a notion that he couldn't give words. Because he'd never tried or wanted to. He switched the radio off, wincing as the sounds of the city intruded, the noise more offensive than the music turned up too loud. Logan's brows dipped, unsure what to make of what he was seeing. He didn't smell like he had when he'd been taking that pill. But it was a noxious mix. Last time he'd smelt like this he'd left him face down in a puddle. Was he about to do something stupid again? Laura told him to hear him out, when in the hell did they get so pally?  
“Son, what's going on? Why're you callin' me this time of the night?” If it were anyone else, he'd have put his hand on his shoulder, but he knew how Daken felt about people getting close to him.  
He glanced back at the steering wheel, fight or flight pounding within him. If he left now he could just bury it again, but he'd have to live with knowing he was too chicken shit. If he faced it he'd have to tell him, rip it out of the ground and brandish it all for everyone to see, gore, mess and horrific images. _If you wear it like armour then no one can make you feel bad for it. Own it._ He recalled hearing it somewhere. He thought it was Lester, but it didn't match up right. He bared his upper teeth and turned off the ignition, growling as he forced the door open, knocking Logan back stumbling. He didn't say anything as he slammed the door, _remember why you're here. Just remember that fucking conversation if you need to be on edge to say it. Remember how Bullseye twisted that knife you handed to him on a silver platter. You did this to yourself you pathetic fool_.

“Daken, what the fuck's goin on?” Logan growled right back, shoving his helmet into the storage compartment and locking up. He had to keep up with his long strides, his shoulders squared. Something was eating away at him inside, after everything that happened it could be a number of things. And yet despite his tension, all he could smell was fear, anxiety and anger. Who had he gotten mixed up with that he'd have to come asking for his help? “Daken! Jesus Christ, what the hell is this about?”  
Daken stopped walking once they were under a bridge abruptly, making Logan bump into him. He looked down at his sons hands to see them clenched, but the tremor travelled up his arm. His right fist connected with the brickwork, letting out a howl as it broke and fixed itself after. The shake was then in his shoulders too and Logan started to realise the reason his eyes looked so glossy under the street lamps.  
“Just shut up. You don't get to talk. You don't get to make any demands, do you understand?” Daken finally growled, his fist now serving as a support to hold him up. Logan's shoulders stiffened, biting his tongue. He nodded slowly, watching Daken try to steady his breathing.  
' _At first I was pissed off that you were thinking about someone else, but then I remembered you've always been a slut. But I didn't realise you were that twisted of a puppy. Who knew projection was something you fell into_ ' Daken's shoulders rose and fell, taking his hand away from the wall, his knuckles already healed.  
“I still miss him.” He started, Logan's shoulders stopped tensing. “After all this time I thought I wouldn't. Everyone always acts like it just stops one day. It's been nearly twenty years since you took him away and it hasn't stopped. I hate him with every fibre of my being for what he did to me.. what he made me. I'm not looking for a surrogate or a replacement. But each time...” He groaned and clenched his fist. “No that's not it..”  
“Daken-” Logan took a step forward, trying to put his hand on his shoulder. He did for a split second.  
“No. You said you wouldn't talk.” He snarled, staggering back from his touch. It was what Romulus used to do whenever he wanted to whisper sweet words of poison into his ear again. He wouldn't let Logan start doing that too. “Don't. Just, don't. I have.. no idea what I need to say. How I can convey this, because you won't get it, and you'll try to tell me how it's alright, because that's what you've always done. You don't get that all you can do is understand that you don't understand and acknowledge it. You have to try and fix it, and maybe I do need fixing, but if you do it, then I'll become dependent on you like I did to him. I know myself well enough. And yet I _want to_. I hate myself for it, but I can't do anything about it.”  
“Let people in. No, I don't get it, you've never fuckin' told me. But I can see he's messed you up enough to act the way you do. Not everyone else is like that, you've got people who do care about you.”  
“I _can't_ tell you.” He grabbed the front of Logan's collar, hovering just that little too long, staring at him. “I can't tell anyone. Whenever I think about it, a hundred and one reasons as to why I shouldn't come up and none of them are to do with Romulus. It's something I have to live with I know that but I don't know _how_.”  
_You want someone to guide you. Someone who'll look out for you and you're too damn scared. Of course you don't know how to experience that in a healthy dynamic._  
Logan's hands came up, gently easing Daken's hands from his collar. “Take a breath. Y'don't have to tell me now. Maybe not in a year. But you can, only person getting in the way is Romulus and yourself. Romulus isn't here anymore. You're free.”  
“I'm not. I never was and-- why can't you understand that? What's the secret you and Laura have that you won't tell me. How do you break out of the same cycle?” His hands trembled in Logan's grip. His hands were surprisingly smooth, despite how calloused they should be, he put it down to the healing factor. But they were warm, he wanted to take comfort in them, but that voice in the back of his head kept telling him to not trust him. How he'd wind up in the same trap he was before. “What do you have that I don't? What do all those kids have that I don't that makes you want to take care of them?! What's wrong with me?” _Why does everyone leave me?_  
“Daken, breathe. Stop it.” Logan winced at his tone. It was firm. There wasn't any comfort in it. Daken always shunned comfort he'd offered him in the past, but this time he was reaching out for it, right? “Sorry, you're not in the right place to be havin' this conversation.” _And I'm not nearly prepared enough to see you crumble in front of me. Not when this could be part of a plan._  
“I've never been in the right place to have this conversation, and never have you but it's not about your discomfort it's about mine.” Daken growled, trying to take his wrists back from Logan's grip. “I can't keep doing this.”  
“So talk about it.”  
“I don't know how, haven't you been listening to anything I've said?”  
“Yeah, an' I hear a scared kid who's dealing with decades of abuse.”  
“I'm not a child, Logan! I'll be nearly 70 tomorrow, there's nothing left to learn!”  
“Bullshit.” he growled, grabbing Daken by the shoulders, “The minute you stop learning, that's the minute you give up on living.”  
“I should have stayed dead. Real people stay dead. But here I am by some sick joke of the universe to do another's bidding all over again.”  
“The hell do you mean real people stay dead?”  
Akihira. Itsu. How different would things have been if they hadn't died? He'd considered it whilst he was drowning, hung up on what ifs, reaching for something better than the reality he faced. Daken pushed Logan away, trying to find his keys in his pockets.  
“I can't do this.”  
“Can't or won't?”  
“Both.” Daken met Logan's gaze, jaw clenched tight as he held back the prickling in his eyes. “I've had enough. I'm going. You should go back to your precious brood of needy children.”  
“How can I help you if whenever I try you push me away and won't tell me why? I can't just keep giving and getting nothing back Daken, you have to try too.”  
“Because I know where this leads Logan. I'm not being someone else's puppet, no matter how much I want to,” _Don't doubt how much I want to try._ “I know better than that.”  
“Daken, you really think I'd do any of that-”  
“No. But I would want you to. I would enable you.” he grabbed Logan by the collar and pinned him on the brickwork of the bridge. “You don't want to know how deep this rabbit hole goes, and nor could you handle it. I'm doing this for our own good.”  
“Don't give me that-” Daken silenced him, pressing his lips against his fervently. Logan could feel the heat radiating from him, the scent of arousal and he tensed. It was one-sided, but Daken got less and less tense the longer he stayed like that. When he pulled back, he had a glossed over look in his eyes. Dazed, not quite there. His shoulders heaved, a deep flush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck.  
“I would want you in ways you couldn't give me. I would want things from you, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself for doing. Trust me I'm keeping away for your own good.”  
“Daken let me help you-”  
“Haven't you been listening?” _After that display of how fucked up I am, you still want to help me?_ “I will ruin you, Logan Howlett, whether I intend to or not if you give me the opportunity. I will play on the fact I remind you so much of my mother. I will guilt you. I will manipulate you until you are what I want. Goodbye and don't try to follow me.”

Daken thudded Logan against the brickwork once more, knocking his head so hard it rung in his ears stunning him long enough to allow Daken his unhindered exit. Once back in his car he turned his phone on, it buzzed for nearly a minute from the mass of texts and missed calls he'd had whilst he'd been away.  Six missed calls, all spanning five minutes between each other.  
**Princess where did you go?  
** **Where are you?**  
 **When are you going to be back?**  
 **Did you go and fuck him?**  
 **Did I go too far?**  
 **I'm sorry that was shitty**  
 **Daken come home**  
 **Daken please where are you?**

He snarled, throwing the phone into the back seat, leaning on the steering wheel, shoulders shaking. This was all Bullseye's fault if he'd left it alone- The car door opened, and he was pulled from the driver's seat. _Get off me, just leave me alone_. He knew the scent. Why couldn't he leave it be? Instead of letting him leave gracefully he had to drag him back and hold him whilst he sobbed like the pathetic mess he was?  
“Got a flair for dramatics. Wish I could say who you got that from.” The harshness had left Logan's tone as he held him to his chest, stroking his hair whilst they knelt in the dirt together. “I don't get it, get it. M'only gonna know what you wanna tell me. But y'told me enough tonight. All I can say is m'sorry. I let you down, but I'm trying, I can't know if I'm fuckin up unless you tell me.”  
“Leave me alone”  
“If y'meant that you wouldn't be holdin on so tight.”

\----

Lester woke up as he heard the front door shut and footsteps scuffing around. He didn't bother to throw on clothes as he got up to see if it was Daken. The mutant's eyes were red and puffy, his jeans covered in dust and dirt. Daken didn't look at him or say anything as he downed a glass of water and made his way to the sofa. He kicked his shoes off and drew himself up to fit better. Lester's mouth grew dry.   
“Daken-”  
“Go to bed, Bullseye.” He muttered and rolled over, facing the back of the sofa. “You've done enough.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers  
> Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters  
> A man who's pure of heart and says his prayers by night  
> May still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright
> 
> If you could only see the beast you've made of me  
> I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free  
> The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound  
> I hunt for you with bloody feet across the hallow'd ground"  
> Florence + the Machine - Howl


	15. Shell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Daken's birthday and Lester has to deal with the consequences from the night before. Visiting an old friend over breakfast turns somewhat sour leading Daken to really wonder about what direction he's taking only to have the answer waiting in an idle suggestion at home. A new conquest awaits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow.. I am so sorry this took so long. You know how sometimes you're writing something and halfway through your brain just short circuits and refuses to help? That was a thing that happened. To be honest I'm not entirely sure what direction I'm going to be taking this fic in, but the ending to this chapter has made it a little clearer in some ways. I hope you all enjoy and was worth the wait.   
> Warning for this chapter as it has implied dub-con and mentions of sexual assault - typical post-Romulus talk.
> 
> "It's like I'll disappear as soon as I close my eyes   
> I feel like I've turned into someone that even I don't recognize   
> Sadly, I've become so small
> 
> I want to be rescued, but instead of sighing   
> I vomited up my loneliness, and just lay there, measuring it all up
> 
> Amidst this drop of time gone dry   
> My heart is drowning and writhing   
> These lies that make me dizzy   
> I took them and tore them up   
> And with that, I became lost   
> In a world of thin darkness."

An awkwardness filled the atmosphere on his birthday. Lester had bought him a few things that had been on his Amazon wishlist, he was trying. But he was also trying Daken's patience. He accepted the gifts with a tight-lipped smile, trying to remind himself that no they weren't tainted just because Lester gave them to him. Laura was supposed to visit later on in the day. He wanted to go out, do something, be anywhere but around him. He wanted to make him hurt. Make him squirm. Leaving him in the night wasn't enough. He needed him to hurt like he had, push him as far as doing the stupid things he'd done the night before. Not that his mind wasn't wandering to it enough as it was. Every time he thought about it his chest pounded and felt warm. He knew what it was, Lester was right, get his attention with his arousal because that was what he was taught to do, it's what Romulus expected. It was born from a dark and ugly place, but he wanted to pursue it. He didn't care how disgusting it was, because when he'd kissed him he felt alive again. In that moment he had purpose. Crashing back to reality was cruel, leaving him with no direction, just drifting. Wasn't it only a few weeks ago that he'd looked at Lester's aging face and realised how little time they really had, was that what brought this all on? Push him away so he wouldn't have to watch him grow old and crippled? His stomach lurched, making him want to focus on something else.

He looked over at Lester, who was looking at him like a lost puppy, it was making him sick. No, of course, he wasn't looking when he looked, always pretending to find the magazine he'd been 'reading' for the past hour more interesting. He hadn't even changed page.

“You haven't asked where I went last night,” He said, sipping his chai tea, giving him a scathing look over the lip of the mug. “You want to ask, you've been giving me that pathetic look all morning. I don't need to spend my birthday being followed by a lost puppy.” Not that his birthday was really a big deal to him.

“Not sure I've got a right.” Lester looked away, his brows dipped. “I went too far, I'm sorry.”  
“So you've said. You don't want to know?”  
“Yeah but-”  
“So ask.” He feigned openess, but there was an unspoken dare. Daring the man to question his decision, daring him to get angry with him after all he'd done. “Go on.”  
“Ngh..” Lester rubbed his temples, trying to fortify himself for the inevitable screaming match. “Where did you go? I get you didn't want to see me but-”  
“I decided to take your advice. I should be honest about my feelings right?” Lester felt himself recoiling, hoping to find salvation in the bottom of his coffee cup. Not much scared him in other people, but whenever Daken got like this it was unsettling. He was always in such control of himself to see him letting go like this, it was alien. It wasn't right. “I called Logan and I forced myself upon him.”  
Lester choked, spitting the mouthful out, some shooting from his nose and hacking on the remnant in his throat. He hammered his open palm on his chest, trying to cough the rest of it up. He did what? No, he had to be joking. No way he could over-power Wolverine of all people, well he got to him, but that took time. Did he manipulate him?  
“No we didn't fuck in the park. I kissed him, told him my intentions and how he should stay away. First person on my list ticked off.”  
“Daken, I was just talking shit when I said that-”  
“Oh, yes, I never did tell you what Romulus did to me exactly did he? On the eve of my 9th birthday, he showed me the kind of love I would get from him. Made a point of how no one would help or save me. That he was doing it for my own good. That was the relationship we shared for the next fifty or so years, carefully making sure that I had confidence but not enough so as to cripple my faith in myself. Had to keep a clever boy like me under his thumb somehow. So no, I don't know what a healthy relationship is, yes sex is a weapon, it has it's perks, but in the end, it's a great way to get people to think they like you. Worked on you didn't it?” The more he spoke, the further he leant across the counter, getting closer into Lester's personal bubble. “I was his precious little pet. Even after as much as I hate him, I still miss him. So I decided I'd find the next best thing. You're a complication. Something I don't understand, I was never taught how a proper relationship works, this is me winging it. I was above all that. I was above family. But I wasn't above being Romulus' slave.”  
“Daken-”  
“So there you have it. That's what your digging the other night dredged up, this ugly dysfunctional dependency I have. This is your fault.”  
“I didn't do that to you.” Lester's brows dipped, squaring his jaw. “You talk shit about my problems all the time, can't handle a taste of your own medicine is that it?”  
“If you're that fed up of it then go, there's the door. Go back to that disgusting squalor you call an apartment, I'm not making you stay.”  
“Are you trying to push people away? Just so you can feel sorry for yourself? I get it, today fucking sucks for you and it's not something you want to celebrate, but you got people making a big deal about it because of you. Isn't that what you want you fucking diva?”  
Daken clenched his fist, debating throwing his tea over Lester. He was pushing him to go, but if he really did leave he knew he would fall apart. Seeing Lester's face when he got back in the night before was enough of an indicator of how far gone they were. His lips twitched, not sure whether to laugh, cry, scream or leave. His stomach lurched, wincing he knew what was coming. The bile creeping up the back of his throat, peppered with the vanilla flavouring he always put in his tea. Stress, liquid and an empty stomach were a horrendous combination and his stomach let itself be known as he threw up over the magazine Lester had been pretending to read. His eyes watered out of reflex, hands splayed on the counter, holding himself up. No, this wasn't how he wanted to spend his birthday. Truth be told he just wanted to sleep through the day. He'd never made it known that it was his birthday to people, but it just came up in conversation and an exchange was made of their birthdays. How trivial and mundane.  
“I'm going for a shower.” Daken muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and left Lester to clean up the mess. The marksman groaned, throwing the magazine into the bin, grabbing the cleaning kit from under the sink.

The water was always just that little bit too hot, something to get warmth running through his body, but it felt so invigorating. Clean himself up, go see Johnny, come home, meet up with Laura, have dinner, go to bed. That was the day sorted. Only fourteen hours until he could justify crawling back into bed again. The bathroom door opened, clearing just enough of the steam to aid the struggling extractor fan above.   
“I'm joining you.” Lester stated “Gotta get all this crap off me.”  
Daken didn't say anything, stepping aside to make more room for the other. He inevitably complained about how hot the water was, his skin flushing pinker at the scalding heat, Daken turned it down, unable to look at him. Even when Lester's arms slipped around his waist and his face was buried in the crook of his neck, he didn't push him away. All that he could think to say was vitirolic and acrid, he kept it to himself. What was what he really thought and what was conditioning? He couldn't tell the difference now he was thinking about it, it had become part of him.  
“I hate you.”  
“Say it like you mean it, Princess.”  
Of course he couldn't. No matter how much he wanted to strangle him with the shower cord, he just couldn't bring himself to.   
“Do anything like that again and I won't come back.”  
“I know.”  
“What about if I do want to fuck other people.”  
“Hasn't stopped you in the past, why would it now?”  
“Because if I have to deal with a bunny boiler then this will get old quickly.” Not that he could really talk. If he found Lester had been fucking someone else after all this then he might have choked them and made Lester watch. No wonder his obsession with Daredevil got under his skin so much, the line between hatred and infatuation proving to be much thinner than he realised. “If you tell me not to I won't.”  
“I'm not going to hold you on a leash. I'm not being your new Romulus. If you're gonna fuck someone else then tell me first.”  
“You're the jealous type. It won't be that simple.” And yet Daken smirked. “At least it means you like me.”  
“Jealousy's an imbalance in power. It means ownership. I don't own you.”  
“You've been speaking with your therapist again.”  
Lester grunted something, glad that Daken couldn't see his expression. They understood each other, that was the point in this. They could take comfort in that. Using one another as something akin to a crutch. Looking at each other, seeing how far they've come and wanting to keep up with their progress. He was terrified of being left behind, he knew that; they both did. If he didn't keep up then Daken would leave him in the dust. He had people rooting for him, Daken was all he had. If Wade wasn't busy being the happily married type then maybe he could talk to him. _We are a married couple more or less, you dumbass._  
“Yeah, yeah. You done here? Thought you had places to be?”  
“He'll understand.” The fact Daken had told Johnny about their relationship was satisfying and simultaneously horrifying. Why? To make Johnny jealous? He had to be wanted, that was what all this was about, so he was punishing Johnny for not making a move sooner-“It came up when you followed me. He saw you get out of the taxi whilst he waited for me. You weren't subtle in the slightest. Cat's out of the bag, people know.”  
“I think I can live with it.”  
“Really? So you're not going to melt down in public if someone refers to us as a couple? The gay has spread and you're alright with that?”  
“I've spent months fucking you, I think I'm fine. Ngh-” Daken smirked, slipping out of Lester's grip and slapping his ass on the way out of the shower.   
“Good, I'm off to get my jollies.”  
  


Did he feel better for it? Somewhat. Did he still kind of want to slap Lester? Yes. But nothing was new there. As he made his way into the gridlocked traffic he took the opportunity to look at his new phone, what made him look at it quizzically was the text from Logan. He'd changed his phone and hadn't given the new one to him. His eyes narrowed _Laura._ Of course. He didn't want to look at it, but at the same time, something tugged at him, a morbid fascination.   
**Happy birthday. I'm sending something with Laura today. Take care of yourself.**

His stomach knotted again, wishing internally people would stop trying to stress him out before he ate breakfast in the morning. He'd have to order everything on the menu just to fill the gap, after all Johnny said he was covering it.

“I'm not here to be babied Johnny, I thought this was about me having breakfast on you.” _On you would have been better_. He'd met him at the restaurant but Johnny had invited him to come over to the Baxter building instead. He'd thought nothing on it, remembering what it was to have breakfast with the Four and looking back with something that probably counted as a certain fondness. It was just Johnny, Sue and Reed were out with the kids and Ben was doing _something_. The name 'Future Foundation' now attached to the place. Of course Reed would be as pious as to think he could do it.   
“Yeah but when you told me you two were a thing I was kind of hoping you were joking.” Johnny presented him with a cup of coffee and a plate of waffles, bacon, and mushrooms and Daken took no time to dig in. He needed something solid to settle his stomach.   
“Can you not trust me? I know I don't have the greatest track record in great decisions, but I think I'm onto something this time.” Daken took a bite out of the bacon, watching Johnny's expression as the blonde pushed his meal around the plate. “Or is someone jealous?”  
“What- no, I'm not, I'm just.. The guy's a psycho.”  
“And so am I technically and yet here you are having breakfast with me. It's a neurological issue theorised to be within the amygdala. Lots of people technically are psychopaths, Lester just kills people. And so have I.” He raised a brow, watching the other shift uncomfortably. “Or do you not like to paint your friends with the same brush as 'super-villains'?”  
“Alright, don't get on the defensive, I'm sorry. I just know what he's done.”  
“So do I. Johnny, dear, we're not going to see eye to eye on this matter, so let's drop it hmm? I've already had a bad start to the day, don't make it worse.”  
“What happened?”  
“Dealing with the aftermath of Lester following me the other day.” Johnny was about to speak but Daken put his hand up and stopped him. “It's fine. It needed to happen. We are fine. Now, you dodged my question as to whether you were jealous or not.”  
“I'm not.”  
“Remember that I can tell when you're lying, and not just because of my sense of smell. Your poker face is awful.”  
“I told you, I'm worried about you.”   
“You and a lot of people. But if Laura can trust him then can you?”  
“Wait, Laura's been over to your place?”  
“She's my sister, of course she's been over, she's still in one piece. She's a fantastic buffer.”  
“What else are you going to tell me to rub in my face how shitty of a friend I've been?”  
“You haven't been a shitty friend Johnny, I've just been mixed up with complicated things that I couldn't get you involved in. I've brought enough trouble to your door.” It felt like old times all over again. That odd blend of absolute honesty being used to manipulate and feeling somewhat bad about it. Ah yes, perhaps this was why he stopped hanging out with Johnny. _How much can I get away with before I get overwhelmed by crippling shame?_  
“Guess I'm a glutton for punishment.”  
“Now don't go and tell me you're a masochist, you're practically giving me a whole new birthday present.”  
“I'm not a masochist!”  
“Emotional masochist? After all you do keep putting up with me and my witticisms and teasing.”  
“Because I like you Daken, I know you have trouble with believing that, and I had every right to be pissed at you. Are you settling? Like, you're not gonna go away again a couple of months down the line like always?”  
The difficult questions. Could he really say he was surprised? Johnny was used to emotional reassurance. He didn't want to promise him anything, knowing how easily spooked he was and let alone fickle. “I'm not going to promise anything. I'm working through things I should have done years ago, no lies, I promise that.”  
“Was that why you didn't return my call yesterday?”  
“Spent most of the day sleeping. I had wanted to sleep through today, but Lester and Laura wouldn't let me.” He shrugged. “My birthday's never been anything special. It's only you three that are making a big deal about it. But it is good to see you, regardless. I had missed your cooking.” Daken poked the tip of his tongue out as he stabbed a waffle with his fork.   
“I see how it is, I'm just your bit on the side who cooks for you. No, no, it's fine I get it.” Johnny feigned offence, taking the ridiculous kiss the cook apron off. “But seriously, I can't ever imagine Bullseye being domestic.”  
“He's not as much of a wild animal as you seem to think he is. I see a lot of myself in him sometimes. It was uncomfortable at first, but I was the one who started it, back when Norman had his Avengers. I liked to push his buttons and it got.. out of hand I think. We've exchanged too much to not be this close.. it's still odd to say it. We haven't been talking about it like most people do. Believe me, it's mutual.”  
Johnny made a face, his tongue scooping food out from between his teeth, trying not to really listen to what Daken was saying. He wanted to be happy for him, after all he'd gotten the companionship he wanted, but he wasn't so sure that it was a healthy connection. He could hear it now if he said it. Daken would challenge him to show him how it was really done. He looked down at his plate, the mess he'd made just by scraping his food around. Shoulders sagged and not making eye contact, he really was jealous wasn't he?  
“Johnny, we don't have to keep talking about this.” Daken spoke up, noticing just how quiet Johnny was. Once it might have given him a kick to dangle himself in front of him, remind him of what they could have had after all the many awkward sexual encounters they had over the years. Desperate one night stands. Now he just felt cruel and once he would have revelled in it, the thought of dousing that flame untl he couldn't bear to be without him. The power and the dependence in one... But it was all Romulus. It wasn't what he wanted, was it? “I can see that it's upsetting you. He's just as upset that I'm spending time with you.”  
“Do you ever stay with anyone? You don't settle down. It's always just.. get some and go.” Johnny stopped and his mouth pressed into a firm line, trying to avoid Daken's gaze. He felt like he would flame on any second, the heat running through him. He was a whole noxious blend of emotions. Jealous, angry, sad – was it something that was wrong with him? That he couldn't be the one to get the feral to settle down. Good enough to fuck, but not good enough to stay with. He supposed he wasn't life-partner material.   
“Stop tormenting yourself.” Daken scoffed. Internally he winced when he saw Johnny flinch somewhat at his icy tone. “No, I didn't stay with you. But Johnny, _dear_ you never asked me to. You offered shelter not your affections. Nor did I want to have to deal with the inevitable fallout of living with you and my actions. I would have ruined your reputation. You're a hero and I'm not. If I'd stayed with you whilst I was with the brotherhood? If I was here when I was dying from Heat? You would have torn yourself apart from the inside out. I may not have the moral compass you possess but I am by no means a monster.” He paused. _I couldn't do that to you._ “It seems I've also ruined this breakfast.”

“Is it because he understands? You're similar?” There was a distance in Johnny's tone. It was just like before, when Johnny had given Daken hell for drugging Reed. It was the same each time he came back into his life. No matter how often he got bitten by Daken, he would always reassert himself. Sucker for punishment.  
“Do you see me as something to fix? A project that you can feel good about.” Daken's brow hiked up, setting his cutlery down. “No, he isn't you. Instead of being happy for me, you're guilt tripping me like some pathetic fuck boy. Thank you, Johnny. Perhaps I should be the responsible one out of us for once and say what we've never wanted to. This friendship doesn't work. You expect too much of me when I need none at all. I'm not here to live up to yours or anyone's ideals.” _But here I am still trying._ “Call me when you're forty, maybe you'll have grown up by then.”

The mutant got to his feet, pushing the chair back to cause an uncomfortable scraping noise. A tantrum on his part? Perhaps, but he came to fix the bridge, it wasn't his fault that Johnny was pouring acid over his efforts. Maybe Johnny was right; he did just want someone to fuck on the side, give him the feeling he wasn't tied down to just one person for the rest of his life. _Watch him get older, watch the lines in his face deepen-_  
Beeline to the door, don't look at him, just go. You're not obligated to stay here, this was a nice gesture that he fucked up by making it all about him. He reached the doorway, unable to cross the threshold. Brick dust may as well have been scattered to protect the outside world from him. Johnny always thought he could fix him, whether he realised it or not. It had always been the Storm's agenda. He should never have let his mask slip so much around them.

“You fell in love with an idea of me, not who I actually am.”  
“I fell for the part of you that you're too scared to let out.”  
“I'm not _scared_.”  
“You always have been. The minute you got over your head you did something self-destructive to get away from the consequences.”  
“You sure you haven't been talking to my father?”  
“We met at the funeral.” Johnny replied coldly, a slight tremor in his voice. “There wasn't enough of you to bury after the explosion. We all should have known better than to cry and think that was it shouldn't we?”  
No, he didn't need to hear this. How cruel. How awful of him. Johnny may not have known it, but he knew how to play him sometimes. How many people attended? Did they actually grieve for him? How many times had he grieved for him? Death was a revolving door barred to those who deserved a second chance. And then Johnny had to go and come back. _Real people don't come back_.  
“Stop. Enough's enough. We know where this leads, so why don't we be sensible and put a stop to it before it can repeat itself?”   
“You always come back.”  
“I don't have anywhere else to go-”  
“You do now. You've got Bullseye and Laura, but you still came here.”  
“I'm selfish.”  
“I know. You're still welcome here.”  
“Your kindness will be the death of you. I won't be the start of that snowball effect.”  
“So why haven't you left yet? You always were great at walking out whenever it suited you.”  
 _Because I'm weak and pathetic._ Daken's fists clenched at his sides, Johnny was right; whenever things got too tough he had a bad habit of flaking out and dragging as many people down with him as he could. Not that he thought mending fences would be easy in the slightest, but Johnny was making it _too_ easy. Perhaps he should just be thankful for how much of a dolt he was because of it, but he was divided. One part was convinced he wanted something and the other wanted to prove him how wrong he was about him and do something awful again.   
“You don't know me as well as you think you do.” He bared his teeth, a prickling running down his arms, just aching to pop his claws and be done with this. _Threaten, break it, destroy that bridge_. “I only came here to be polite to you, to take advantage of your kindness, take advantage of you. My birthday present to me, because dear you always looked so _amazed_ by just what I could do to you when we were between the sheets. It almost looked as though you'd never had sex before. So is that what all of this is about, Johnny? You're jealous because you're worried I can't fuck you anymore?” Slowly he approached the blonde, watching as he backed away whilst trying to maintain eye contact. He could smell the sweat beading, the slight hint of fear and arousal. The arousal wasn't anything new, he could always smell the attraction coming from him, how easily he caved when he propositioned him, it was all too easy. Johnny was well and truly wrapped around his finger. It was delicious. “Let's not beat around the bush any longer, shall we? Cut to the chase. Just because I'm with Lester doesn't mean I'm not available to remind you why you crave me.” He reached out, cupping Johnny's chin between his index finger and thumb, the way his lip curled and showed his pointed teeth a predatory reminder of just who was in control of the situation. _No one will ever make me feel obligated to do anything again. Never again will I bow to another person. This is what happens when you give people an inch, they'll take everything you ever had. Johnny is no different, he's selfish and this means nothing._  
He tried to keep telling himself that he pushed Johnny back onto sofa and straddled him, licking his lips like he was about to devour a buffet. Never once did Johnny tell him to stop, he was probably relieved for the tension breaker, but that didn't stop the nagging at the back of his mind that he should have. No matter how many times he quashed the thought it'd creep back.

 

Daken drove back to the condo in silence, he felt wrong, even after the quick clean up he had before he left the Baxter building. No one else had been in, but that wouldn't have stopped him, would it? He knew he couldn't trust his use of pheromones at times, there was no telling if Johnny had entirely wanted to sleep with him, and yet it'd happened. So much for striking number two off the list with pride. Part of him was now dreading the reception when he got back to the condo, no doubt Lester would be seething.   
The fact he wasn't made it so much worse. He knew he stank of sex and yet there he was just looking over some maps at the table. It was probably for a job he'd been hired for, despite how crass and tasteless he thought Lester was, the man enjoyed the preparation as much as the jobs themselves. He'd practically froth over the documents, getting himself into a tantalising stupor at the idea of just how many lives he'd be taking and how he'd painstakingly craft their demise. More often than not, once he was finished planning he'd throw his arms around Daken's waist from behind and lewdly grind against him until they took it to the bed or the sofa. Most of the time thinking about the different ways Lester fucked brought him a wonderful topic to daydream about, but somehow he didn't feel quite right. Then again he hadn't felt right since the night before. He didn't want to say he was confused because that would then be giving the issue control over him officially, but here it was practically bending him over the counter and screwing with him regardless.   
“I thought you'd be gone for longer.” Lester said absently, more to acknowledge that he had realised Daken was home.  
“Things didn't go quite to plan.” He muttered, dumping his jacket on a chair by the door.   
“Isn't that always the problem with people? What a shit free will is.” There wasn't the malicious edge to his voice, so it wasn't as though Lester was trying to crawl under his skin... and yet.   
“He's an idiot. That's why he's an unbearable shit.” Off with the shoes and straight to the fridge. Even if Johnny's breakfast was wonderful as ever, drowning his nagging with food sounded like it'd be his only reprieve.   
“That's why you keep going to see him? Princess, I know you're a sick masochist but, really? If he pisses you off so much why do you go see him and not just kill him already?” The marksman looked up from the map and watched Daken dust off a punnet of strawberries and a tub of yoghurt. It was any wonder why Daken wasn't overweight the way he could get through food; fucked up mutie high metabolism bullshit. Although.. he only ate a lot when he was healing from something. Lester's eyes narrowed as he subtly tucked the map away into its folder and approached. “Don't tell me. He wouldn't fuck you?”  
“No.”  
“You got some, so why the sulky bitch routine?” He tried to sit next to the mutant on the sofa but was met with a low growl from the back of his throat. “Is this about this morning? I thought we'd settled on that?”  
“I don't know. Maybe I've burned that bridge and neither of us have realised it.”  
“You're better off without him, he doesn't get you. Not really.”  
“You give terrible advice. He thinks he understands me like I'm something to be _fixed_.”   
“If he thinks that do you really think I'm all that wrong? He lives in his own special fucking world where he's worshipped for just existing and being a good boy scout, of course he's not going to get you.” He paused and glanced over Daken, there was a slight glazed over look in his eyes and focused on one spot on the wall ahead of him. “What does it mean so much to you for? So you're down one easy fuck like that's ever gotten you down before-”  
“He was..” Daken sucked his upper lip. “He was only meant to be just that.”  
“Whatever happened to the cold and distant manipulator?”  
“Died too much.”   
  
Lester exhaled heavily through something akin to a pout, _life and soul of the party right here_. If only his uppers would work against his healing factor, he could just shove a load down his throat like they were candy and be on with the rest of the day.  
“Look, your old man used to be one of the big bads in his day, maybe it just comes with an expiration date for you and his brood.” He shrugged, Daken not even bothering to look at him to acknowledge the line of thought. “Even Dorian Grey got overwhelmed by his hedonistic lifestyle in the end. You see enough 'shocking' things and it's not interesting anymore, you're just bored.”  
“I'm tired.”  
“You're tired, _cause_ you're bored. See where I'm going with this? Get out there, do what you do best.”  
“And what is that?”  
“Do whatever the hell you want.” He clapped the mutant on the back and gave a shrug in return. “You're not tied down, you're not some rapist's pet, you're not under your old man's thumb and he's not hounding you. You're the master of your own fate. What do you _want_ to do?”  
Seeing as how he was on a spree of making awful decisions, perhaps the well-intentioned speech wasn't quite as helpful as Lester had intended it to be. He'd received such a passive message from Logan, all he really wanted to do was try and squeeze a reaction out of him again. How could he really get under his skin without putting himself in the line of fire; do something he couldn't or wouldn't have any resonable excuse to retaliate to? That was the real challenge, even after bearing his issues to him so brazenly the night before Logan had still kept his distance. Coward.  
“Take someone close to him away.”  
“You did that before and you ended up in a puddle.”  
“That was a student. I mean turn someone against him.”  
“Laura?”  
“No, she knows me too well.” He slouched forward, his index and middle fingers danced on his chin as he put names to faces. Someone Logan was fond of but perhaps weren't on the best of terms? No, there wouldn't be any fun there. “Someone questionable enough that he won't struggle to keep him close.”  
“Summers?”  
“One, which, and two, I do still have some self-respect.”  
“The swamp rat?”  
“Tempting.. tempting indeed.” Although the last time he'd tried to flirt with the man he'd been choked with his pole, and no matter how phallic the reaction may have been, it was a no go. Although that was when he believed Laura was in danger. They were now on much better terms, maybe it wasn't such an awful idea after all. It was hardly a secret that he did find Remy alluring. A difficult challenge, but certainly do-able.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "For the sake of those whom I should trust   
> I chose to come here, a cage into which I've locked myself, and now   
> there's no escape.
> 
> Deep inside my parched throat   
> Lies the reason for this growing impermanence  
> Scared of the approaching tomorrow   
> I cower and collapse   
> But it seeks me out and whispers to me   
> This voice of thin darkness."  
> Bana - Shell
> 
> Next chapter sees the introduction of the Ragin' Cajun, an encounter I've really looked forward to writing after the events of Collision. But there's a lot of interactions that really need to be done when it comes to Daken. 


End file.
